


Take A Deep Breath

by chidoriXblossom



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-10-07 07:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17361473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidoriXblossom/pseuds/chidoriXblossom
Summary: When Virgil starts feeling a little under the weather during a busy period for International Rescue, he thinks keeping quiet about it will save his family from any additional stress.  Unfortunately life doesn't always work that way, and what started as a mild cough steadily deteriorates.





	1. It's not that bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gumnut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumnut/gifts).



> My first ever Thunderbirds Are Go work. Inspired by and written for Gumnut. A huge thank you, Nutty, for encouraging me to share this. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Thunderbirds obviously not owned by me haha

Life as a Tracy was always fast paced, International Rescue a beacon of hope to all mankind whenever fate decided to throw challenges at them.  Be it a natural disaster, the failings of increasingly advanced technology, or the occasional criminal mastermind, whenever human life was at risk everyone around the globe knew who to call, and who to put their faith in.

Having the entire world relying on five brothers and their extended family was a tall order, one that left little down time or chance for rest.  Situations would continue to develop just as the Earth would continue to orbit the sun.  It was inevitable, stopping for no man or woman.

Virgil Tracy was beyond exhausted.  Bringing Thunderbird Two in to land back at the island, his mind and body were running on their own autopilot.  It had been a very long week full of difficult rescues, with equipment and Virgil’s particular skill set in near constant demand.  
Today had been no different.

After John had reported a distress call from a research centre in the Arctic, Thunderbird Two had been redirected three times during her return flight, first to the Amazon, then India, and finally Russia.

Single crewed since his brothers were busy with their own missions, Virgil had dealt with scientists trapped in a collapsed ice cave, villagers stranded in rising flood waters, an earthquake that had caused a train full of frightened passengers to derail and almost fall off a bridge, and then a forest fire.

With no time to return to Tracy Island Virgil had been forced to make do with what equipment he’d had in one module, and Kayo had brought over a second with all the firefighting equipment to tackle the blaze.

The girl had since then flown home with the lighter of the modules, faster than Thunderbird Two who was weighed down with gear and running low on fuel after such a long day.  When Virgil brought her down to land on the runway he breathed a sigh of relief, and as the ship spun on her turntable in the hangar he was sure he heard her do the same.

Finally, after seventeen hours away from home, they were back.  Virgil programmed the hangar bots to begin refuelling the green behemoth in a daze, and once he was finished his checks he gave her a loving pat on her console and headed up to the villa.

A hot shower later and he felt a little more human, dressed in clean bed clothes and grateful to have the grime of the day washed from his skin.  He would have gone straight to bed, but hunger got the best of him, so he ventured to the kitchen.

“You useless hunk of caffeinated junk.  How about I cross a few of your wires?”

And there was Grandma, up at her usual time and in the middle of her morning routine – arguing with the coffee machine.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile.  He stepped up beside her and hit a few buttons, cancelling whatever she’d done and selecting the correct setting for how she liked her fancy morning coffee.

He’d long since given up trying to memorise all the different names.  Coffee was coffee was coffee to Virgil Tracy.

\---

Sally looked up as Virgil appeared beside her, a warm smile of gratitude and greeting on her face.  “How was the mission?  I heard Thunderbird Two coming in as I got up.”

“Which one?” Virgil asked.  “I did the Arctic, Amazon, India and Russia all in one trip.”

Grandma’s smile turned sympathetic.  “I guess I mean all of them.”

Virgil shrugged.  “Nothing much to report.  Got each situation under control and everyone who needed evacuated out.  Couple of hiccups but no lives lost.”

“That’s not nothing, Virgil.  That’s something to be proud of.”

The young man yawned.  “You’re right, Grandma.”

While Virgil supervised the coffee machine Sally moved to retrieve a bowl and a box of cereal, having just heard her grandson’s stomach rumble.

Virgil looked like he was about to fall asleep on his feet, and only a few things ever came between him and his bed; a rescue, a family member in trouble, or hunger.  Fortunately, this time it was the latter, and Sally Tracy was on the case.  She may be a terrible cook, but she was capable of pouring a bowl of cereal at least.

Virgil had her coffee ready as she put everything he’d need on the table, and with smiles exchanged the pair sat down across from one another.  Silence reigned, and it was blissful.  Finally a moment of peace.

Sally watched Virgil closely over the rim of her mug as he ate, taking note of the dark bags under his eyes and the pallor of his skin.  
“You look terrible,” she said.  His eyes flicked up to meet hers, glazed with fatigue.  “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Virgil swallowed his mouthful.  “Not much choice, Grandma.  With Gordon still out of action we’re stretched thin.”

Three weeks ago the second youngest of the Tracy brood had taken a nasty fall during training and sprained his ankle.  Scott had immediately grounded him from missions until it healed, and the remaining four brothers had since been working overtime to make up for being a man down.

Unfortunately for Virgil his scheduled vacation time had been due when Gordon had his accident, so the Thunderbird Two pilot hadn’t been able to take the much-needed down time he’d been looking forward to.

Well, technically he could have.  Virgil just had an unwavering sense of loyalty and responsibility.  He’d refused to leave Scott and Alan to handle all the rescues alone.

Sally understood Virgil’s thought process and why he’d chosen to remain on duty, and while she respected his selflessness she was beginning to worry.

Virgil was pale and lethargic, quieter than usual as he wandered around on autopilot.  He’d made a valiant effort of pushing his exhaustion to one side, but Sally could see it was finally taking its toll.  He hadn’t touched the piano in two weeks.

“You need a break.”  It wasn’t a question or up for debate.  “Gordon’s ankle is almost fully healed now.  I’m sure he could handle piloting Thunderbird Two and give you a chance to catch up on some sleep.”

Virgil blinked slowly, then shook his head.  “As a medic I can’t let Gordon go out on a mission until he’s back to full strength.”

Sally frowned.  “So, as a medic, do you really think you’re fit enough to keep pushing yourself like you are?”

A scowl.  Virgil could be stubborn, but he always struggled to argue against logic.

Sally smiled.  Score one to her.  “I thought as much.”  She had a sip of her coffee.  “You’re not a machine, Virgil.  If you keep this up you’ll burn yourself out.”

“I can manage until Gordon’s ready to return to duty,” Virgil mumbled, keeping his gaze down.  “He’d do the same for me.”

“Maybe,” Sally agreed.  “But would you be happy about it if he did?”

Another scowl as Virgil finished the last of the milk in his bowl, a faint cough catching in his throat.  Sally didn’t fail to notice it.

“You’re going to make yourself ill,” she said, and stood.  “Here, give me your bowl.  I’m officially ordering you to go to bed and sleep until you wake.”

Large brown eyes blinked up at her, still as deep and beautiful as they’d been when Virgil was a child.  They were a little brighter now that he’d had something to eat, but Sally could see the tiredness swirling within them.  She held out her hand and gestured to the bowl.

He reluctantly handed it over and Sally pointed to the stairs.  “Bed, now.  I’ll have John redirect any calls for Thunderbird Two to your brothers.”

Virgil looked like he was about to argue, since that was the kind of threat normally directed at Scott, but all it took was for Sally to raise an eyebrow at him and he gave up.

“You’re the boss.”  Worn out with nothing left in the tank, Virgil trudged towards the stairs and disappeared.

Now alone in the kitchen Sally moved to the sink, thoughts of her second eldest grandson filling her head.

All five boys were guilty of pushing their limits from time to time, often when International Rescue was particularly busy with distress calls, but Scott and Virgil were always the worst.  John, Gordon and Alan all worked just as hard in their own ways, but Thunderbirds One and Two were the craft called out the most due to their versatility.

And lately the demand for Thunderbird Two and her pilot had been particularly high.  Virgil was definitely reaching his limit.

Burnout was always a risk in their line of work, and with Virgil having already lost his vacation time, Sally could only hope he wasn’t about to crash out.

\---

Scott yawned as he trudged down the stairs from the third floor, ready for his morning coffee before he went out for a run.  He’d been fortunate that his last mission had seen him returning home just after midnight, which had allowed him to get a decent night’s sleep.

He’d planned to rendezvous with Virgil and assist his brother with his missions, only for Virgil to insist he could manage on his own and that Scott should continue on home.  They’d all been busy lately, so any opportunity to get some decent rest couldn’t be passed off.  
Scott had felt guilty, but he’d definitely benefitted from a good night’s sleep.

That guilt came back full force when he met Virgil on the second floor.

His brother looked terrible, pale with dark smudges under his eyes that were cast towards the floor.  Scott stared at him for a good couple of seconds before Virgil even noticed, and when his brother did look up he blinked sluggishly at him.

“Oh.  Hey, Scott.”  That familiar baritone voice, normally rich and comforting, now dull and empty.

Scott bit back a sigh.  “Virgil, look at the state of you.”

Virgil blinked, then frowned.  “What?  I showered.”

“Not that.  You’re dead on your feet.  I should have come to help you with that last mission.”

A shrug.  “No point.  I have all the firefighting equipment.  You would’ve just been in the way.”

Scott’s face tightened.  That stung.  Thunderbird One might not have the right equipment for fire rescues, but surely there would have been something he could have done.

Scratch that – there definitely would have been something.

“That’s a low blow.”

Virgil grumbled and rubbed a hand down his face.  “Sorry, I’m just tired.  I had the GDF to contend with.  Guy in charge was useless.  Kept getting in my way.”

Scott frowned.  “Colonel Casey wasn’t there?”

Another shrug from Virgil.  “Not that I saw.  Oh yeah, you might get a complaint from her.  The Lieutenant guy said he was going to report me.”

“Why?” Scott asked suspiciously.  “What did you do?”

Virgil looked away.  “Rammed his jeep with a pod.  There was no one in or near it, but he parked it on the path I’d cleared to get the extinguisher pod through to the last of the fire.  So it ended up on its side in a ditch.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed.  “There was definitely no one close by who could have been injured?”

Virgil’s scowl nearly burned a hole clean through him.  “I’m tired, Scott, not stupid,” he deadpanned.  “The area was clear, I scanned it twice.  He just left it there to cause problems because I wouldn’t follow his idiotic directions.”

Okay, so Virgil was definitely well into the red on the grumpy scale.  The family’s overall opinion of the GDF wasn’t always great, but they were normally a bit more tactful with their disapproval.

“I’ll deal with Colonel Casey if anything gets mentioned,” Scott offered, though he wasn’t anticipating any real problems.  The GDF owed them more than a few favours.  “You go and get some sleep, before you fall over.”

No response.

“Virgil?”

His brother’s eyes were fixed on something towards the lounge, so Scott turned to have a look.

“What the--“

\---

Gordon Cooper Tracy did not handle boredom well.  Still grounded from missions until his ankle fully healed, the second youngest had been forced to stay at home, either helping with monitor duty or finding ways to fill his days that didn’t include swimming.

Gordon’s usual go-to whenever he had time to kill had always been the pool, but due to his injury even that had been off limits.  A Gordon who was not allowed to swim was not a Gordon anyone liked to be around.

With nothing better to do and no one else around, Gordon had stayed up all night to binge watch season fourteen of ‘Into the Unknown’ while snacking on his favourite celery crunch bars and whatever else he could get his hands on.

His slob tendencies had come out in full force with nobody around to reprimand him, and the lounge had suffered as a result.  
Cushions were scattered everywhere while wrappers and dirty plates littered the floor, some with half eaten food still on them.  Not that any of this bothered Gordon, who was slumped across one of the sofas snoring up a storm.

Completely oblivious to the approaching danger, until a pillow smacked him in the face.  He let out a squawk of surprise and flailed, throwing the pillow away.

Scott towered over him.

“What the hell, Scott?”

“That’s my line, Gordon,” his eldest brother retorted.  “Last I checked this wasn’t your bedroom.”

Gordon righted himself and stood, favouring his still weak ankle.  “I was gonna clean it up, just fell asleep before I could start.”

“Then start now.”

Gordon let out a dramatic sigh and stooped to pick up a couple of plates.  He straightened and moved to the steps, only to freeze when something far more dangerous than an irritated Scott stomped past him.

Virgil.  Mission weary, sleep deprived Virgil.  Heading straight for the piano.  Gordon grit his teeth and held his breath.

“What the hell?!”

The roar of the family bear filled the lounge.  Even Scott flinched.

“You spilled coffee on my piano?!”

Gordon took a breath.  Time to fess up.  Maybe the Gods would spare him from the wrath of Virgil.

“It was an accident,” he said quickly.  Virgil looked so angry Gordon actually wondered if he was about to self-combust.  “I got a fright when the string snapped and knocked my cup over.”

Honesty, apparently, wasn’t the best policy.  

Virgil’s temper hit orbit.  “You snapped a string too?!”  He had the heavy cover of the piano open and was peering inside at the damage within seconds.

“I know you’re mad, Virg, but I didn’t mean to.  I’ll buy you new strings and whatever else you need.”

The look in brown eyes that turned towards him made Gordon freeze up again.  Perhaps his time in this world was fast approaching its end.  Virgil’s anger was evident in every aspect of his appearance.

The tensed shoulders and bulging biceps, white hot knuckle grip on the side of the piano, the fire in those eyes shadowed with ‘too-tired-for-your-shit’ exhaustion and a deep scowl.

Gordon decided to get another apology in before Mount Virgil blew his top.  “I’m sorry.  Just tell me how to fix it.”

“Why were you anywhere near it?” Virgil demanded.  “You can’t even play.”

“Actually, I can do a fine rendition of chopsticks now.”  A weak attempt, even by Gordon’s standards, to lighten the mood.

It failed.

Virgil slammed the cover so hard the strings hummed.  Ominous and lingering.  “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he spat.  “You trash Thunderbird Four on a daily basis.  Why should my piano be any different?”

And that lit the touch paper of Gordon’s own temper.

“What did you just say?!”

Throwing caution to the wind and his guilt along with it, Gordon marched across the floor towards his much larger and stronger brother.  There was no way in hell he was going to let that comment slide.

He opened his mouth to throw back an equally scathing remark, conjured up by temper and his imagination, when his bare foot landed in something wet and then shot out from under him.

\---

Virgil moved like lightning.  Strong arms reached out to catch Gordon as his brother slammed into him, only to be knocked off balance himself, tripping over the piano stool in the process.

With a firm hold on Gordon, Virgil fell backwards with no way to catch himself.  It was not a pleasant feeling, and it only got worse when the floor rushed up to meet him.  Virgil saw stars as the back of his head smacked off the polished hardwood.

A sharp gasp left him, the air knocked harshly from his lungs as Gordon’s full weight landed across him.  Winded, a breathless cough forced its way from Virgil’s chest, bringing with it a twinge of pain very different to what he was feeling in his head.  

That had hurt.

“Sorry, Virg!”  Gordon’s panicked voice filled his ears, their argument forgotten. He felt his brother scramble off him.  “Are you okay?”

Virgil grimaced and opened his eyes, trying to draw in air.  “Ow…”  He lifted a hand from his side, gently pushing Gordon away when his brother tried to pull him up.  “Wait a sec…”

Gordon’s face was full of guilt to his left, and Scott appeared at his right.  “You hit your head pretty hard.  Don’t move for a minute.”

“Wasn’t…planning to.”

Scott looked to Gordon.  “You all right?”

“I’m fine, forget about me,” Gordon insisted.  “Want me to grab an ice pack?  He’s gonna have a lump.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Scott mused.  “Then you can clean that coffee up, before it downs another Tracy.”

“F.A.B.”

Virgil heard Scott sigh, then felt his brother’s warm hand wrap around his wrist.  Virgil had been having a tentative feel of the back of his head, but apparently Scott didn’t approve.

A few seconds later Virgil felt his brother’s fingers slide through his hair instead.  He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and locked onto a pair of bright blue ones.

Scott smiled down at him.  “Yeah, you’ve got quite a lump there, little brother.  Guess who’s grounded for the next few days?”

Virgil’s eyes widened.

“Scott, no.  You might need me and Thunderbird Two.”

His older brother rolled his eyes.

“I’m not about to let you pilot anything after you’ve near put a dent in our floor with that hard head of yours.  Would you let me pilot Thunderbird One if it were me lying there right now?”

Virgil deflated, any argument dying on the tip of his tongue.  He had no smart comeback for that, so he settled for glancing away in reluctant defeat.  “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” Scott smirked.  “Good to see your brain is still working to some degree.”

Virgil snorted, then let out a faint cough into his hand.  “Your bedside manner sucks, Scott.”

“And you sound like you’re coming down with something.  Sleep deprived, concussed and getting sick – better make that grounding for a week.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Over at the comms circle John’s hologram appeared as he made his morning check in.  Virgil turned his head just enough to see his space dwelling brother’s eyes widen.

 _“Looks like you have a situation down there,”_ John commented, and Gordon reappeared with an ice pack.   _“Do I even want to know what happened?”_

“Just another morning on Tracy Island, John,” Scott answered.  “Virgil took a tumble.”

_“Is he all right?”_

Virgil hissed as Gordon gingerly slid the ice pack under his head.  “I’m fine, John.”

Grandma appeared next and Scott moved out of the way.  Virgil felt one of her hands touch his cheek.

“That’s the last time I let you boys argue amongst yourselves without interfering,” she said.  “I thought I was doing the right thing when I heard all the commotion.”

Virgil heaved a sigh.  He’d never liked being fussed over, and now he had four family members all hovering around him.  Why not get Alan, Kayo and Brains to come join the party?  Then they’d have the complete set.  Hell, even Max and Eos could join in.

He carefully pushed his Grandma’s hand away and sat up, both Gordon and Scott’s hands on his back as they tried to help.

“I’m okay, just--“  

And that’s when the pain registered, the ache of the initial blow spreading through the entirety of his skull to make his ears ring.  Virgil cringed, hands cupping his head gingerly.  “Ow…”

The uncomfortable sensation of the world spinning around him joined the pain, and Scott’s arm came around his shoulders like a brace to keep him steady.

“Easy does it.”

Virgil growled, only for it to come out as more of a pathetic moan.  He was way too tired for all this and lacked the energy to do anything about his worried family members.

As if having Grandma and Scott giving him a hard time for pushing himself wasn’t bad enough, now he probably had a minor concussion to deal with too.

This day had turned to shit, and it wasn’t even eight in the morning yet.

Gordon would pay.

~*~

Three days.  That was how long it took Scott to stop asking Virgil how he was feeling every time he laid eyes on him.  Since smashing his head off the floor with the force of a small meteorite Virgil had been grounded from missions and forced to take it easy.

The idea of forced time off was frustrating but Virgil’s body had seized the opportunity and crashed out on his bed for thirteen hours straight.  The dark smudges under his eyes had faded as a result, so comments about him looking terrible ceased.  

However, while his sleep pattern had improved, something else seemed to be lurking.  Virgil was starting to notice some sinus pressure building up along with an ache in his neck and shoulders, and a tickling cough that refused to go away.

An annoyance, but not something he couldn’t deal with.  Headaches, however, were another matter.

Virgil had a higher than average pain threshold, apparently, and his family hated it.  Scott had yelled at him once for walking around with a broken hand for two days before saying anything.  Virgil had been convinced it was nothing more than a mild sprain until Scott marched him to the infirmary and Brains did an x-ray.

He was never going to live that one down.

But pain in his head was a completely different matter.

When Virgil Tracy had a headache, everyone knew about it.  Not through him openly broadcasting the issue or complaining, but through some of his more subtle, unconscious actions.

The piano always went untouched, as even the slightest note from the keys was like a dagger to his brain.  He ate less and drank tea instead of coffee, and his posture suffered with his habit of slouching to cradle his head in his hands.

Everyone knew the warning signs and usually gave him space, hopeful that he would speak up if it was particularly bad.  The family knew better than to poke the family bear when he was hurting.

Well, most of them.

Cue Scott.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil grit his teeth.  “Scott, this is a big one.  We’re going to need everyone on the ground.”

John had just called in about a situation in Japan, where a huge earthquake had hit and one of the cities had suffered massive structural damage.  The death toll was still rising, but hundreds were believed to be trapped in the rubble.

Alan and Gordon – who’s ankle had now fully healed – had already rushed off to gear up, leaving their two big brothers to face off in the lounge.

“It’s only been three days.  I said a week off missions.  You’re staying here.”

Virgil stood his ground.  “No, I’m coming with you.  Logistics expert, remember?  You guys need me, Scott.”

“You just said you had a headache!”

“And I’ve taken painkillers for it.  Stop wasting time and gear up.”

He turned before he could see Scott’s reaction and hurried to his chute, grateful when it swallowed him up and saved him from his brother’s wrath.

Virgil had won that round, but as he hurtled towards Thunderbird Two he knew Scott would have something to say about it later.

Until then there were people in need of rescue.  His headache, and his brother, could wait.

~*~

Unabara City had looked like a war zone, and some of the images the Tracy boys had seen would stay with them for a long time.  The day was slow and stressful, both physically and mentally taxing.

The flight home in Two was quiet and sombre, emotions fragile and energy drained from everyone.  No conversation, and only brief words exchanged when necessary for mid-flight checks.  It was a relief when Tracy Island came into view, and an even greater relief when Virgil got to his bed.

The next morning the headache had finally left him, but Virgil didn’t have time to feel relieved, as he woke with clammy skin and a general feeling of yuck in the back of his throat.  He wiped a heavy hand down his face as he lay in bed, his body sunk deep into the mattress.  

According to his clock he’d slept a good eight and a half hours, so why the hell did he feel like he’d just blinked the night away?

Light disturbed the relative darkness of his room.  The holodisk on Virgil’s desk.  John’s voice.  _“Virgil, you awake?”_

A grunt.  That was all Virgil had energy for.

_“We’ve got a situation.  I need you and Thunderbird Two in Alaska.  An old mine-shaft has collapsed and there are people trapped inside.”_

Virgil forced himself to sit up.  It took way more effort than usual.  “Scott not reinstated my grounding?”

 _“Scott’s been in Gibraltar for the last two hours,”_ John replied.   _“Alan and Gordon are up in Thunderbird Three stabilising an old transport ship.”_

Virgil frowned.  All of his brothers were away, and he hadn’t heard a thing.  Thunderbird One and Thunderbird Three had both taken off without him noticing.

What the hell?

 _“Virgil?”_  John sounded concerned.   _“Are you all right?”_

Virgil cleared his throat, felt a slight pain in his chest, and swallowed.

“Yeah.  I’m on my way. Send coordinates to Thunderbird Two.”

_“F.A.B.”_

John disappeared and Virgil stood.  The room spun.  He gasped, and it morphed into a cough that made his chest hurt even more.  

Great.  So he was getting sick after all.  Just what he needed.

In an ideal situation he should have called John back and told him he wasn’t fit to fly.  But his brothers were all busy working hard and the GDF had proved themselves to be less than useful lately.  

There were scared people counting on him to get them to safety.  Virgil refused to let them down.

~*~

Scott was in trouble.  Thunderbird One was taking a battering from the wind and rain of the storm, and Brains was still inside the building she was desperately trying to hold upright.

After dealing with the situation in Gibraltar Scott had had just enough time to return to the island to refuel and pick up their engineer, before heading back out to another distress call in the Rwenzori Mountains on Uganda’s border.  

Scott was a pilot and a first responder, but the more detailed workings of technology and engineering often escaped him.  Brains had given him a rundown of the situation mid-flight, but he still didn’t fully understand it.

Something about power cables and a severed connection that threatened to blow an entire network if it wasn’t dealt with.  A huge problem for local communities who were heavily reliant on the underground power system.

A landslide during one of the heaviest rainfalls of recent years had compromised the structural integrity of the concrete bunker where the main control system was housed, and all attempts at rerouting the power remotely to a backup network had failed.  

Brains was inside, scared but determined to fix the problem, while Thunderbird One attempted to keep the entrance to the building from caving under the weight with a grapple.

The wind was tearing at her wings, trying to rip her apart or throw her into the mountainside, and warning lights were beginning to flash everywhere Scott looked.

“Brains!”

 _“Just h-hang on, Scott,”_ the engineer’s voice came back through the comms.   _“I’m working as fast as I c-can.”_

There was a clang as something bounced off the side of Thunderbird One.  More debris from further up the mountain.  

“Well I don’t know how much longer I can hold this,” Scott admitted.  “I thought this was supposed to be a quick fix?”

_“Unfortunately, no.  I need m-more time.”_

Scott cursed and wrestled Thunderbird One back under his control.  “I’m making no promises.”  Another clang to the hull, this time much louder, and Scott felt his ‘bird waver.  “I just lost one of my VTOL engines.  Brains, more of the mountain is coming down. You have to get out of there!”

_“Not yet.  If I don’t reroute the p-power it will overload the grid.”_

A huge rock tumbled down the mountainside and launched itself off a ledge, where it smashed into the back end of Thunderbird One.  The ship’s main engine spluttered.  An alarm screeched in the cockpit. She was leaking fuel.

Scott fought again for control, using every trick in the book to keep his ‘bird in the air.  Her grapple cable snapped and the wind tore her off to one side.  Scott shut his eyes and waited for the crash, still yanking at his controls, when four metallic thuds sounded directly above him.

Thunderbird One lurched, then swung back away from the danger.

_“I’ve got you, Scott.”_

The eldest Tracy’s eyes shot open.  “Virgil?!”

Sure enough, a green icon appeared over his on One’s holographic screen, and the silver ship stopped her spluttering as her engines finally died. 

The wind and rain battering against her hull was drowned out by the comforting hum of four much more powerful VTOL engines, the smaller ship now cradled directly beneath her sister’s impressive mass.

“Virgil, what are you doing here?”

A snort over the comms.   _“What’s it look like?  Saving you of course.  Thunderbird One is too small to hold up in these crosswinds.”_

Thunderbird Two’s forward grapple shot out past One’s nose cone and connected with the building below, and the next thing Scott knew he saw Virgil zip sliding down it in his exosuit.  Scott went nuts.

“Virgil, what are you doing?  There are rocks falling!”

 _“Oh, really?  I didn’t notice.”_  A snarky reply Scott definitely didn’t appreciate, and his brother disappeared into the building.

Scott held his breath.

\---

“Brains!” Virgil called as he moved deeper into the building, shoulder light ablaze in search of his friend.  The ceiling above him was beginning to crack under the pressure from the landslide, and some light fixings and cables had already fallen free.  

Virgil estimated two minutes before the whole place caved in, and he did not intend to be there when it happened.

“Virgil!”  Brains appeared up ahead, dimly lit by a control panel.  “I’ve just rerouted the power.  The network has b-been shut down and the backup initialised.”

“That’s great, Brains, but let’s get moving.”  A huge crack appeared directly above their heads.  “Run!”

\---

“Virgil, get out of there!” Scott yelled.  “The ground beneath the bunker is crumbling.”

 _“Scott!”_  John’s voice.   _“I’ve taken remote control of Thunderbird Two but I can’t hold her for long.  As soon as they’re clear I’ll need to move you.  My scanners show another huge slide starting further up the mountain.”_

Below the two ships the roof of the bunker started to give way, caving under the huge weight of the landslide.  Scott’s heart leapt into his throat.

“No!”

\---

Virgil groaned and shook his head to clear it, feeling a pain in his shoulder.  Opening his eyes he found himself hunched over Brains who was curled up on the floor, with chunks of concrete pressing down on the exosuit.

Virgil coughed and then swallowed, a faint taste of blood in the back of his throat.  “Brains?”

A wave of relief washed through him when his friend turned his head and looked up, shaken but unharmed.  “You saved me, Virgil.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Virgil grunted, and slowly pushed himself free of the concrete.  Only a portion of the ceiling had started to give, but it was only a matter of time before the rest followed.  “Can you stand?  We need to move.”

Brains nodded and scrambled to his feet, aided by Virgil, and the two stumbled out into the storm.  The rain battered against them without remorse, but Virgil ignored it as he remotely released Two’s grapple and then clipped himself and the engineer to the cable.

“Thunderbird Two is leaving.”

The two men were lifted away from immediate danger as the huge green ship rose into the air, and swung on the line up past One’s nose and into the safety of Two’s belly.  As soon as Virgil’s feet touched the reassuring metal floor plating he shrugged out of the exosuit and returned to the cockpit.  “I have control. Thanks for holding her, Thunderbird Five.”

_“Any time, big brother.  Now get yourselves home.”_

“F.A.B.”  Two climbed up out of the storm and turned for home, her wounded sister held secure beneath her.  Virgil hit his comms to contact Scott.  “How you doing under there?”

Scott’s hologram scowled at him.   _“That was completely irresponsible.”_

Virgil’s eyebrow twitched.  “Excuse me?”

_“You rushed in there without fully analysing the situation, and you left Thunderbird Two on autopilot in that storm.  Both of us could have crashed!”_

Virgil was not impressed.  He’d expected a ‘thank you’, not to get rubbed down with a half brick.  Besides, Scott was the one who’d gone into a situation ill prepared, and he’d put Brains at risk too.  Shouldn’t Virgil be the one lecturing him?

Speaking of Scott, he was still ranting.   _“And what part of you being grounded don’t you understand?  We have these safety protocols for a reason, Virgil!  You can’t just ignore them whenever you feel like it.”_

Okay, enough.  Virgil disabled comms, ensuring Scott couldn’t call him back.  A handy little trick he knew his brother couldn’t get around.  So much for getting any appreciation.  He had a cough and a bit of a cold – big deal! His brother and Brains could have been killed if it wasn’t for him.

Flying off the handle like that after being rescued was bang out of order.  If Scott wanted to stew then Virgil was going to damn well let him.  

It was a long flight home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for the first chapter. Pretty long, but the whole thing is over 25k and I don't want loads of little chapters.
> 
> If you read this I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if I missed any typos - I've been staring at it so long I've turned blind to them if they're there.
> 
> Chapter 2 will be up soon.


	2. Okay, it's bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at chapter 2. I couldn't wait to share it after receiving such an overwhelming amount of amazing comments from people. This fandom is so lovely and welcoming, and I can't emphasise how much I appreciate all the support I've had as a newcomer to this particular community - you're all wonderful!
> 
> Anyway, enough waffling from me.
> 
> Disclaimer: Thunderbirds isn't mine. I'm not that lucky lol

Virgil shivered as the cool air of the infirmary chilled his bare skin, then winced.  Brains was checking his back and shoulder for any injuries following their return from Uganda, and each gentle prod of the engineer’s fingers upset the mottle of bruises that now painted Virgil’s skin.

The exosuit had taken the brunt of the impact from the falling debris – Virgil had been lucky, but he hadn’t escaped unscathed.  He was going to be feeling that rescue for at least a couple of days.

“You’ve done some m-muscle damage but other than that you got off lightly.  The bruises are probably going to be the hardest things to deal with.”

Virgil shrugged with his slightly less painful shoulder and reached for his shirt.  “Part of the job.  Thanks for checking me over, Brains.”

“No th-thanks necessary,” Brains insisted.  “You saved my life, Virgil.  I’m the one who is grateful.”

That got a smile from Virgil as he eased his grey shirt on over his head.  “Maybe, but you saved the power for all those people.  Life goes on as normal for them thanks to you.”

Brains smiled and turned to make a new entry in Virgil’s medical file, leaving the Thunderbird Two pilot to finish getting dressed.  Max rolled over with Virgil’s favourite red plaid shirt and offered it to him.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” a voice commented, and Virgil spotted Kayo standing in the doorway.

When did she appear?

“I’m not hiding,” he retorted, gingerly sliding his shirt on.  “Why would you think that?”

Kayo smiled.  “Because Scott is kicking up a storm in the lounge, and you normally do anything to stay away from this place.” She stepped forward, her delicate fingers helping to slide Virgil’s shirt over his shoulders and then tuck the collar down.  “And he’s mentioned you by name several times.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.  “He’s just being dramatic.”

Kayo’s bright eyes met his.  “He’s looking for a fight.” 

“I’m really not in the mood.”  Virgil turned away from her and coughed into his fist, a harsh hacking sound that filled the quiet of the infirmary.  

“Maybe not but he won’t stop until you see him.”  Kayo rubbed his back gently, avoiding the worst of his bruising. 

Had she been around that long to see it?

“That cough is getting worse.”

Virgil recovered and drew a careful breath.  “Just a bit worn down.  I’ll be fine.”

Kayo smiled.  She inclined her head towards the door.  “Come on, I’ll walk up with you.  Best get any blow out with Scott over and done with.”

A grumble, then another faint cough.  “Fine.”

~*~

“Nice of you to join us!” Scott snapped as soon as Virgil appeared with Kayo.  The eldest Tracy was sitting at their dad’s desk, rage burning in his eyes.  Virgil suddenly regretted letting Scott stew for so long without an outlet.

Gordon and Alan were sitting on one of the sofas, trying to look like they weren’t watching, and failing miserably.

Virgil sighed.  “Whatever you’ve got to say just say it already.  I’m tired and not in the mood.”

Their dad’s chair clattered off the floor, Scott standing so abruptly that he tipped it over.  His older brother rounded the desk and stalked towards him.

“What the hell were you thinking?!  Rushing in like that!  You could have been killed!”

Virgil stood his ground, movements cautious after the blow to his back, but refused to cower before Scott’s fury.  He squared his shoulders, ready for the inevitable clash with his brother.

“I was thinking that Brains would need the exosuit for back up, which he did.  You flew him into the danger zone completely unprepared.”

“I had the situation under control,” Scott argued.

Virgil snorted.  “You were about to crash into a mountain.  How is that ‘under control’?”

\---

Gordon turned to Alan as their two eldest brothers shouted at one another.  “Think we should have stayed in space,” he whispered.

Alan nodded slowly.  “Not too late to go back.”

The idea was tempting.  It was never a good day when Scott and Virgil clashed, and this fight seemed particularly volatile.

Gordon nodded.  “When do we leave?”

\---

“I made a judgement call and Brains agreed to it,” Scott told Virgil firmly.

“Only because you didn’t give him a choice,” Virgil snapped back.

He didn’t realise how close he and Scott were until Grandma stepped between them, a hand on each of their chests.

“All right, that’s enough,” she said, voice gentle but stern.  “You’ve both said your parts.  Scott, perhaps you could have done with taking more equipment, and Virgil should have let you know he was coming beforehand.”

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed and he reluctantly backed down, wanting to respect his Grandma’s wishes.  Scott was in the wrong as far as he was concerned, but trying to get that through his thick skull required more energy than Virgil currently possessed.

But apparently Scott still had more to say.  “Grandma, he shouldn’t have been flying at all.  I grounded him for a reason.  He’s not fit to fly.”

The fire returned to Virgil’s eyes.  The fight was back on.  “I can fly just fine.  You almost got Brains killed!”

“He volunteered to go into that bunker!”

“You should have called me for backup.  I wouldn’t have sent him in there alone.  You’re cutting corners again, Scott, rushing into things with that gung-ho attitude of yours!”

“Says the one who flew his ‘bird over an unstable mountainside with the VTOLs on full.”

Virgil saw red.  “Don’t you dare blame Thunderbird Two!  She saved your--“  

The words died, cut off sharply by a rough ache in his chest.  Pain.  No breath. Then a rapid expel of air that made his insides sting.  Virgil doubled over, the rest of his sentence lost.  His chest felt like it had been clamped, the spluttering cough morphing into a loud bark as his vocal cords spasmed.  What felt like acid burned its way up from his lungs and into his throat as he hacked violently into his palm, wet sounding and with a faint coppery taste.

He stumbled.  Hands were upon him, keeping him upright.

\---  

Scott’s anger fell away in a heartbeat.  He reached for his brother along with their Grandma, each of them catching one of Virgil’s shoulders in an attempt to steady him.

The harsh chesty cough was all that could be heard for several seconds as his brother fought to get enough air in.  His skin flushed red and his body shook with each jolt.  Scott waited, anxious and patient, for his brother to recover.

\---

“Easy, Virgil,” Sally soothed, running a hand through his hair as he finally calmed.  He was still upright, thank goodness, but noticeably shaky.

Scott had a firm hold of him and both Gordon and Alan rushed over to help, so Sally knew it was safe to let go of Virgil’s shoulder.  She moved her hand instead to his forehead and felt for a temperature.

“You’re a little warm.  I suggest some cough medicine and an early night.  Since Gordon and Alan are back they can pilot Thunderbird Two if it’s needed.”

She watched Virgil swallow and take a breath.  His voice, when it came, was croaky and slightly pained.  “But, Grandma--“

“No buts,” she insisted.  “This discussion is over.  We can talk about it again in the morning once everyone has had time to cool down.”

\---

Scott watched as everyone left the lounge, Virgil helped by Gordon who was still trying to get back on his brother’s good side after the piano incident.

Scott drew in a breath and turned to his Grandma, mouth open and ready to make some passing comment. He changed his mind when he saw the look she was giving him.  

“You could have handled that better, Scott.”

Uh oh.  It was the disapproving tone in her gravelly voice.  Scott hadn’t heard it directed at him in a while. He huffed and folded his arms.  “I’m still mad, Grandma.”

“I can tell.”  She walked over to him and caught his wrists, uncrossing his arms so she could hold his large hands.

Scott blinked, offering no resistance.  She was so small in comparison to him, yet still possessed an incredible inner strength that he’d admired ever since he was a child.  Her hands, so small in his, gripped him tightly.

“It’s all right to be mad, Scotty,” she told him, her voice softer as they shared a quiet moment together.  “You work so hard and I know you constantly worry about your brothers, and Brains and Kayo.  But you need to remember that you can’t always control everything.”

Scott’s eyes dropped to the floor between them.  His throat felt a little tight.  “I’m mad at myself too.”

“Why is that?”

A sigh.  “Because Virgil has a point.  What I did, letting Brains go in like that…  It was irresponsible.”

Grandma’s thumbs brushed over his knuckles.  “You did the best you could in a tricky situation, everyone knows that.  Virgil may have had a point, but Brains also understood the danger he was walking into.”

One of her hands moved and she raised Scott’s chin, drawing his gaze back to her.  Tired young blue locked onto warm and experienced blue.

“What’s important is that you came home safely.  There are lessons to be learned on all sides, but I’m just glad you’re all still here to learn them.”

Scott managed a smile.  He appreciated that, more than his Grandma probably realised.  He’d expected a lecture, but received some loving guidance instead.

“How do you cope?” he asked quietly.  “With the worrying.”

Grandma released his hands gently.  “I never stop, if that’s what you’re wondering.  But I also have faith in all you boys.  Your father taught you everything he knew, and you have each other to lean on when things get hard.”

Scott nodded.  His father got mentioned less and less these days.  “I miss him,” he admitted.  “Think that’s why I was so mad at Virgil.  I don’t think I could handle losing anyone else.”

“I’m sure Virgil feels the same way. Maybe that’s why he went against your orders.”

And there it was.  The point his Grandma had been trying to make, finally registering in his tired brain.  He smiled.

“I’ll straighten things out with him in the morning.”

Judging by the smile that touched his Grandma’s lips, and how it reached her eyes, that was the right thing to say.

“That’s my boy.  Now go and get some sleep.  Thunderbird One won’t be going anywhere until the repairs are done.  Turn your alarm off.”

Scott had no qualms about that.  A lie in sounded divine.  Hopefully tomorrow would be better.

~*~

Virgil felt hellish.  It was ten o’clock in the morning and he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.  The inside of his chest felt bruised and tender, and the coughing was getting worse.  No longer restricted to his throat, the raw ache had spread down his tubes and into his chest, where it dug in with claws that threatened to tear his lungs apart if Virgil took too deep a breath.  

Accompanied by the deep-set fatigue that had taken up permanent residence in his body, and the painful tension in his neck, Virgil was far from okay.

He rarely got sick, so it had been a long time since he’d been afflicted by anything that made him feel as bad as he did.  It took all the strength and willpower he had to haul himself upright and trudge into the bathroom, where he threw some bog-standard cold and flu tablets down his throat and then stepped under the spray of his shower.

The hot water pounded into his bruised back while steam filled the room, and Virgil let his head tilt forward until it came into contact with the cool polished stone wall.

He felt like he couldn’t get enough air in, and tried to draw in a deeper breath without aggravating his chest or throat.  The warm vapour helped to a degree, but then his body felt too hot and he was forced to turn the water temperature down.

Beside the shower controls was a small waterproof touch screen, and a green light began to blink with a soft beep.  Virgil sighed and hit the screen, activating the voice only communicator.

“What?”

_“Sorry, Virgil.”_  John’s voice.   _“Thunderbird Two may need to launch.  Can you come to the lounge?”_

He couldn’t even shower in peace.  Virgil’s patience was beginning to reach the end of its limits.  

“I’m grounded, remember?”  A bit abrupt.  John didn’t deserve it, but Virgil was tired and grumpy.

_“Actually, Scott didn’t say anything about that.”_

Virgil snorted.  That had to be a first. 

“I’ll be down in a minute.”  He smacked the screen again before John could respond, cutting off the connection, and tried to enjoy the last thirty seconds of his shower in peace.

\---

Scott looked up from the hologram when he heard the heavy-set footfalls of Virgil’s favourite boots, just in time to see his brother appear round the corner.  Virgil didn’t stop, didn’t even look at him, a scowl on his face as he walked towards his chute.  

“Am I going?”

Scott winced.  He’d hoped to clear things up with his immediate younger brother, but that would have to wait until later.

“You’re going.”

A grunt.  “Where?” 

_“Dubai,”_ John answered.   _“This should be a fairly quick one.”_

“Gordon and Alan are going too,” Scott added.  “Hey, Virgil?”

He tried not to let Virgil’s stare bother him when his brother turned and looked back over his shoulder.

Scott offered him a hint of a smile.  “Be careful, yeah?”

Things may have been tense between them at the moment, but Scott would never let an argument stop him from wishing his brothers a safe trip.

Virgil’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.  “Always.”  There was no smile, but it was a start, and left Scott feeling a little better.

He turned back to review the developing situation as Virgil disappeared down his chute, and wished Thunderbird One was operational so he could join him.

\--- 

When the harness opened Virgil managed to catch the handlebars, but his swing down into Two’s cockpit was far less controlled than usual.  His knees gave out when he landed and he nearly smashed his face off the floor, avoiding it at the last second.

His chest burned as he hacked into a closed fist, his breaths wheezing and shallow once the episode passed.  Swallowing against the disgusting feeling of yuck at the back of his throat, Virgil hauled himself upright.

The hatch took two attempts to close properly, unbelievably heavy where he normally didn’t bat an eyelid.  Virgil then dropped into his seat with a groan, feeling like he weighed about three tonnes, and fiddled with his seat belt until it finally clicked shut – a normally smooth and well-practised motion now jittery and awkward.

He began his usual launch sequence, lowering Two down onto the module, and started pre-flight checks.  Gordon and Alan rose up into the cockpit behind him and moved to take their seats, and it was usually at that point that the great green behemoth would start moving.  However, on this occasion, Two remained at a standstill.

Virgil could be stubborn and impulsive just like the rest of his brothers, and he was reluctant to admit that he was sick, but he wasn’t stupid.  Taking off now with his eyes stinging and chest burning the way it was would be foolhardy and irresponsible. He’d be putting the lives of his brothers in potential danger just to maintain his façade that he was fit to fly.

No.  Virgil Grissom Tracy was not that stupid.  

He had no energy.

He couldn’t do this.

Reluctantly, he relinquished control of Two to Gordon, hitting a switch so the secondary controls dropped into his brother’s lap as Virgil pushed his own away.  He felt the stare on the side of his head before he heard his brother’s voice.  

“What are you doing?”  Gordon.  Confused and more than a little shocked.  Virgil didn’t hand over control of his beloved ‘bird unless he had to, never quite trusting Gordon or any of the others with his pride and joy.  

But today was different.  This wasn’t about pride anymore.  He would not put his brothers or his ‘bird at risk.

“You two will have to handle this one alone.  I don’t feel great.”  

The admission left the cockpit in stunned silence as he stood up and turned, upon which he immediately found himself face to face with Alan.  Those big blue eyes were wide with concern.

“Virgil?”

The older brother forced a small smile and rested a heavy hand on a narrow shoulder.  “It’s okay.  Just make sure Gordon doesn’t tax her engines too much.” What he hoped was an assuring tone didn’t seem to help.  Alan looked even more worried.

“What’s wrong?”

Virgil felt a throb of pain in his chest as he held back a cough.  His face must have betrayed him because Alan tried to move closer, but Virgil kept him at arm’s length.  “Getting a bad headache, possibly a migraine,” he lied.  “You two can handle this one yourselves.”

He stepped past his brother and onto Two’s hydraulic hatch, muffling a cough with his palm.

“Okay then.” Alan sounded reluctant.  “Take it easy, bro.  Get painkillers from Brains if you have to.”

Virgil nodded and the hatch gently lowered him to the hangar floor, saving him from the worried stares of his two younger brothers.  He walked out from beneath his beloved ‘bird and watched as Gordon taxied her towards the opening, the sunlight flooding in and making her paintwork shine brilliantly.  

It was an odd vantage point for Virgil to have, so used to being the one in the pilot’s chair coaxing the huge cargo ship into life.  He didn’t like the feeling of her leaving without him.  The big green lady required a gentle touch, one Virgil was convinced only he could give.  Scott and Alan were both used to flying much faster craft, and Gordon was accustomed to something significantly smaller that didn’t even have wings – no disrespect to Thunderbird Four intended.  

Two was neither small nor fast.  She could move when she needed to at a decent rate, but she was built for heavy lifting and not speed, much like Virgil himself.

With a sigh of resignation despite knowing he’d done the right thing, Virgil turned and started back up to the villa, ever grateful for the elevator so he didn’t have to climb so many God forsaken stairs.  He doubted he could have managed any.  

Guilt niggled at him for lying about having a migraine, but it had been the only sure way to stop Gordon and Alan asking too many unwanted questions.  Two brothers down, two more to go.  Actually, John was likely already aware of the pilot switch-over. That just left Scott.

Virgil groaned, then winced as another dull pain burned in his chest.  Scott could prove to be a handful, and just when things had started to calm down between them too.  Virgil could only hope his elder brother wouldn’t worry too much.

Of course, that was like asking the sun not to set.

If Virgil wasn’t careful, Scott was going to end up with more than a few grey hairs.

~*~

When Virgil reached the lounge, exhausted despite avoiding the stairs, Scott was back behind their father’s desk.  His older brother looked up at hearing footsteps, and Virgil felt his stomach twist at the panic that filled Scott’s eyes.

“Virgil?  What’s wrong?  Did something happen?”  He was up on his feet and heading towards him immediately.

“Headache.”  Virgil held his hands out, hoping to stay Scott’s further panic.  “You’d have been more annoyed if I’d gone.”

It was wrong to lie to his big brother and Virgil knew that, but the excuse of a headache would almost certainly cut off any of Scott’s rambling and allow Virgil to escape to the relative safety of his room.  

He just needed some rest, to sleep off this annoying cold that was dragging him down.

“Again?”  Scott asked.  “Virgil, this is starting to worry me.  You’ve had quite a lot ever since you hit your head.”

Virgil sighed.  “Can happen after concussions.  I’ll be okay, but I know how you feel about me flying with headaches right now.  Gordon and Alan can handle the mission.”

A smirk from Scott.  “This mean you agree you should be grounded?”

Virgil scowled at him.  “Don’t push it.”  He rubbed at his aching neck and swallowed against a catch in his throat.  Damn he was tired.  Why was he so tired? “I’m gonna go change. Need me to help with anything here?”

“I can give Scott a hand.”  Kayo.  Appearing out of nowhere again.  Virgil couldn’t help but jump.

“Could you not do that?”

She turned to him and blinked innocently.  “I didn’t do anything.”  Her eyes darted down his body briefly, noting his uniform.  Virgil tried not to fidget. 

“You look terrible, Virgil.”

Oh, here we go again.

“Thanks. That makes me feel loads better.”

The next thing he knew Kayo was right in front of him.  Her palm, wonderfully cool, pressed against his forehead.  He couldn’t help but lean into it, letting his eyes slip shut.

That was nice.

“You’re hot,” the young woman observed.

Virgil cracked a smile.  “Thanks.”  

That comment earned him a light smack in the shoulder, but Virgil didn’t care. His chest hurt, his thoughts were sluggish and his entire body felt heavy. Talking required too much thinking and his brain had just switched off. Not enough energy. He didn’t have any to spare.

“Go and get some rest.”  Scott’s voice, closer and full of concern again.  “I’ll check in on you later.”

“Hmm.”  Moving...  That sounded like too much effort.  Virgil had nothing left in the tank.  Staying where he was felt much better.  No movement required, no thinking or talking. Just stillness and quiet. Shame he had to keep standing though. He’d love to sit down.

“Virgil!”

\---

When Virgil slumped Scott was there. He locked his arms tightly round his younger brother as Virgil’s head fell forward, hitting his chest with a soft thud.  His legs were still bearing his own weight but only just, and Scott held him close to keep him upright.

Panic gripped the eldest. “Virgil?  Can you hear me?”

A faint hum, muffled by Scott’s shirt.  Scott cursed under his breath.  “Come on, little brother.  Come back to us.”

Kayo hovered anxiously at his side.  “Want me to get Brains?”

Scott was tempted but shook his head.  “I think he’s just exhausted.  Let’s see how we manage first.”  He looked down at the top of his brother’s head, feeling him start to move.  “You back?  Virgil?”

A few seconds of silence, then a sound of groggy confusion.  Virgil’s head lifted and he blinked, dazed and sluggish.  “Huh?”

Scott let out a breath, relief washing over him.  “Hey there.  You clocked out on us for a second.”

Virgil blinked again.  “What?”  He started to struggle but Scott held firm.

“Easy, I’ve got you.  Relax, Virgil, you’re all right.”

Well he wasn’t, but he was safe and that was all Scott cared about.  Kayo had been right about one thing though – the heat was radiating off his little brother’s body, even through his uniform.  Scott made a decision.

“Kayo, can you grab a hover stretcher?  I don’t think the infirmary is necessary quite yet, so we’ll get him to his bed.”

“On it,” and Kayo was away.

Virgil seemed to be coming round a little more.  “Wait.  Don’t need no stretcher.”

“Uh, yeah you do.  You’re only still on your feet because I’m holding you up.”

Virgil turned his head, titled it back just enough to look up at Scott’s face.  Hazy brown eyes wandered across the elder brother’s features, until Virgil seemed to decide Scott’s shoulder was more comfortable.

“Scotty always holds me up,” he mumbled, and Scott caught a glimpse of a faint smile.  “Always.”

It wasn’t very often Virgil used that affectionate nickname, and it happened even less now that they were both grown up.  It still touched at Scott’s heart though, swelling with love for his sensitive younger brother.

“That’s what big brothers are for,” he answered, and let his chin rest on Virgil’s crown.  “I’ll always be here for you, Virgil.  You know that, right?”

Virgil hummed as Kayo returned with the hover stretcher, and with her help Scott managed to manoeuvre his dozy and feverish brother down onto the padded surface.  Virgil went without a fight, clearly too far gone.  The speed at which he’d gone from fully coherent to near unconscious had Scott worried, but at least he was resting now.

Thank God this hadn’t happened behind the controls of Thunderbird Two.  Now to get him settled.

~*~

Virgil woke with a faint groan, feeling like there was a weight sitting on his chest.  His mouth was dry and his neck was killing him, spreading pain up both sides and into his head. Lying down hurt, and it was harder to breathe than it should be.

The fog in his brain was thicker than Grandma’s pea soup, and just as unpleasant. Why was he feeling so terrible? This was more than just a case of exhaustion and a head cold.

His bed, normally the most comfortable place on the planet, did little to ease how terrible he felt, and when he tried to turn onto his side all he succeeded in doing was launching himself into a fit of wet, sickly coughs that left a sharp stinging in the back of his throat and his head throbbing in pain.

When the episode passed it left him completely drained, and he managed to slip into a light doze until another tickle in his throat woke him ten minutes later. His breathing was no easier.

Bleary brown eyes wandered towards his clock.  Half one in the morning.  Virgil was so tired he felt he could cry, but first he had to deal with the horrendous dryness in his throat.

A warm cup of tea and another mouthful of Grandma’s disgusting cough medicine might do the trick, but that was all the way downstairs.

Virgil lay still and deliberated, until his throat tightened up again and he muffled a cough into his pillow.  Yuck. The sensation was horrible and it tasted even worse. The idea of ingesting anything made him feel sick, but tea and medicine were better than nothing, so he hauled himself out of bed and trudged towards his bedroom door.

It turned out to be a very bad idea.  The moment he stepped outside he felt like something had punched him in the chest and crushed his windpipe.  

The villa may have been situated on a tropical island paradise, but there was still a noticeable change in air temperature between Virgil’s room and the outdoors, and that change assaulted his tender lungs.  

Before he could fully comprehend what was happening he hit the floor, choking and rasping for air that he couldn’t find.  His fingers scraped weakly across the hardwood.

Scott…

\---

Scott woke with a start and instinctively knew something was wrong.  He wasn’t the deepest of sleepers and as far as he knew he hadn’t been disturbed by a dream, but something just felt off.  

A glance at his clock told him it was way too early to be awake if he wasn’t needed for a rescue, but a persistent feeling in his gut stopped him from rolling over and attempting to go back to sleep.

His thoughts quickly turned to Virgil and he wondered how his brother was, after he’d slept the rest of the day away with a significant fever.  Everyone had taken turns to look in on him that evening, before Brains had instructed Max to make regular check-ups throughout the night so everyone else could sleep.

Scott knew Max was programmed to check Virgil at every hour, but since Scott was awake anyway he might as well stick his head in Virgil’s room himself, just to be sure.  Maybe it would help him relax so he could go back to sleep.

With that thought in mind Scott sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed.

That’s when he heard it.  A weak spluttering cough, almost directly outside his door, followed by the heavy thud of a body crashing to the ground.  He was across the room and had the door ripped open in a heartbeat, and panic gripped his chest.

Virgil, curled up on the floor, choking and gasping so hard he was red in the face.  Scott’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Virgil!”

\---

He couldn’t draw in a deep enough breath.  Vaguely aware that he was hacking into his hand, Virgil cracked his eyes open and pulled it away just long enough to get a look.

His palm was wet with saliva, and as if that wasn’t unpleasant enough, it was discoloured by a rather disgusting looking mucus that left a horrible taste in the back of his throat.

He coughed again and this time a spray of red was added to the palette that was his palm.  The artist in him disapproved of the nasty colour combination – the medic in him panicked.

Delirium set in.

The coughing fit seemed to go on forever, tearing at his lungs and robbing him of precious air.  He began to sob through it, his body refusing to respond to his commands and just stop.

Air.  He needed air!  His throat was tearing.  He was coughing up blood!

Help!

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.  He needed Scott.

And then, through some miracle, never one to let him down, his big brother was there.  Virgil didn’t really register himself being picked up off the floor, but the arms that held him were strong and the wide blue eyes he glanced up into could only belong to one person.

He tried to say his brother’s name, but his chest rebelled against him.  A few more spots of blood flew out and splashed the pale blue of Scott’s night shirt with each convulsion of Virgil’s lungs and oesophagus, his vocal cords tight and aching as he moaned and wheezed between barks like an injured animal.  

He reached out desperately, fingers closing round soft cotton in an iron grip as he felt Scott shifting, and accidentally sprayed pinpricks of blood over his brother’s bare arm.

Each cough drained Virgil more and more, sapping him of what little strength he had until he finally reached his limit.  Lack of oxygen, panic, pain and fatigue dragged him down towards the depths of oblivion, deeper than Thunderbird Four could reach, and the last thing Virgil heard was Scott frantically calling his name before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm slightly evil for leaving it there. But I am also nervous. After getting such great reviews I realise I've set a standard for myself that I have to maintain, and that is a daunting thought.
> 
> Hopefully I've pulled it off, and got all the typos - I'm very prone to them in first drafts.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Chapter 3 is coming soon.


	3. It could be worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for chapter three. Not a lot happens in this action-wise, but I hope you still enjoy it :)

It was two o’clock in the morning and everyone on Tracy Island was awake.  Well, almost everyone.  

After the initial panic of Virgil’s collapse Scott’s training had kicked in and he’d gone into full rescue mode, by which point everyone else had heard the commotion and ventured from their rooms.  It hadn’t taken long to get Virgil onto a stretcher and transferred down to the infirmary, where Brains had quickly taken over and started running through medical checks to find out what was wrong.  

There was concern that Virgil had suffered some kind of internal injury when he’d rescued the engineer from the bunker in Uganda two days previously, one that had taken time to reveal itself.  

The family were now waiting to hear from Brains, praying that whatever had afflicted Virgil was not serious.

Scott trembled as he washed his hands in a small room next to the infirmary, cleaning the spots of blood and smears from Virgil’s fingers off his skin.  He'd already changed his shirt, his old one thrown in a basket to be washed.  Possibly burned.  Scott didn’t need the reminder.

The sound of his brother’s gasping breaths and wet choking cough echoed in his head.  He had suspected Virgil’s cold was more serious than he’d been letting on, considering the fever he’d developed, but how had his brother managed to hide that he was _that_ bad for so long?  

How had Scott not noticed sooner, or realised Virgil wasn’t being completely honest with him?  The dishonesty and secrecy from his brother hurt.

A chap at the door.  “Scott?”  Gordon.

Scott cleared his throat and removed his hands from under the tap, the water shutting off automatically.  “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Scott fixed him with a look of disbelief.

“Okay, dumb question,” Gordon admitted.  “Sorry, just wanted to check up on you.  Brains won’t let any of us in, so Grandma’s gone to make coffee, with Kayo’s help.  You coming?”

Scott turned and stared into the mirror in front of him.  “Did I miss something?”

“What?”

“Did I miss something?” Scott repeated.  “After that mission.  I should have checked Virgil was okay, but I was so mad I didn’t bother, and then we barely talked.  What if he’s been bleeding internally all this time?”

Gordon approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Breathe, Scott, it’s not your fault.”

Scott shrugged him off.  “Yes, it is.  I was in charge of the mission, so I was responsible for everyone involved.  Virgil has told me off before about running into things and now this.  I should have been more responsible.”  He closed his eyes with a sigh.  “Dad wouldn’t have made the same mistake.”

Gordon tugged his shoulder and Scott was forced to turn around.  “Dad’s not here.  You can’t keep comparing yourself to him, Scott.  You did the best you could with the equipment you had and a damaged ‘bird.  The stress got to you a bit, which can happen.  You’re only human.”

Scott’s deep blue eyes gazed at the floor.  “But, Virgil--“

“Virgil messed up too,” Gordon interrupted.  “Whatever just happened he must have been feeling the effects for a while, he should have come to us about it.  I’m just glad you were awake and heard him.”  

Gordon’s hand, still on Scott’s shoulder, squeezed gently. 

“What matters now is we’re all here to help with whatever comes next.  Dad always told us to stick together, so don’t hide in here and blame yourself.  We’re all guilty of not noticing something was wrong.  He handed flight control over to me, for crying out loud!  That should have had the alarm bells ringing in my head, but it didn’t.”

Scott finally looked at him, eyes still haunted but a little less conflicted.  He cracked the faintest of smiles.  “You sound a little like him, Virgil I mean.  Not used to this side of you.”

Gordon smiled and shrugged.  “What can I say, the family peacekeeper must be rubbing off on me.  I do spend a lot of time being chauffeured around in Thunderbird Two.  It’s an occupational hazard.”

“Right,” Scott mused as he allowed himself to be steered out of the room.  He glanced at the infirmary doors as his thoughts returned to his immediate younger brother, but Gordon didn’t let him linger as they approached the stairs back up to the villa.  Until Brains came back with news all Scott and the rest of the family could do was continue to wait and hope.

Until then Virgil was in good hands.

\---

Brains adjusted his glasses carefully as Max let out a concerned bleep beside him.  The pair were standing in front of the hologram of Virgil’s x-ray, and it wasn’t good news.  It was the lesser of two evils, but still very concerning.  

Brains had moved the Thunderbird Two pilot to a bed and set him up with a saline drip, where Virgil was now dozing as he drew in wheezing breaths of air.  The oxygen Brains had him on seemed to be helping, but it was still distressing to see the normally strong and healthy-as-a-horse Virgil looking so pale and sickly.  Telling Scott was not going to be easy.

“S-Scott’s not going to l-like this,” Brains commented, pulling the projection across to a pad so he could take it upstairs.  “Come on, Max.  B-best not keep them waiting.”

Together man and machine headed up to the villa and approached the lounge, where the rest of the family were waiting.  Scott was sat behind his father’s desk with his fingers laced together and a deep frown on his face.  A cup of what Brains assumed was coffee sat in front of the eldest brother, and a quick glance revealed everyone else cradling their own mugs of caffeine to fight off the tiredness of the ridiculous hour, except Alan who had hot chocolate instead.  

Virgil’s episode had roused them all from their beds from obvious concern, and Brains wondered if anyone would sleep well that night.

He looked back to Scott, just in time to see the lead Tracy’s intense blue eyes shoot up to meet his.  “Brains?”  Everyone else turned to look, all murmured conversation ceased.

Brains lifted a hand to stave off any questions.  “First of all, I just w-want to say that Virgil is going to be okay.  It’s b-bad but could have been a lot worse.”

“What did you find?” Scott asked, clearly impatient to hear the diagnosis – it wasn’t all that surprising considering what had happened not half an hour earlier.

Brains took Virgil’s x-rays from his pad and sent them to the main projector in the centre of the comms circle.  A hologram of Virgil’s rib cage filled the space next to John’s floating image.  “L-look at the clouding here,” Brains told them all, and indicated to the area of interest in the lower section of Virgil’s left lung.  “In a normal x-ray this sh-should appear clear.  Virgil’s lung is inflamed and b-building up with fluid as the result of an infection.  It’s a bad case of pneumonia, n-not an internal injury sustained during the mission.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from Grandma, Gordon and Kayo.

“What about the blood?” Alan asked nervously.  They’d all seen the flecks on Scott’s shirt, and the red smudge at the corner of Virgil’s slack lips.

“Bringing up blood can be a symptom of more severe pneumonia, Alan.  It’s caused by excessive, v-violent coughing over a prolonged period which damages the tissue.  Virgil’s is bad, but with enough rest and antib-biotics he will recover.”

 _“He has been coughing a lot,”_ John mused, a troubled look on his face.   _“I’ve been noticing it over the last few days whenever we talk on comms, but he said it was just a cold.  I knew I should have mentioned it.”_

“Don’t blame yourself, John,” Scott said from the desk.  “We all let him convince us he was okay.  The excuse he kept giving me was headaches.  The main thing now is we know what it is and that it’s treatable.  Brains, what kind of timescale is recovery?”

“Based on these x-rays I’d say f-four to six weeks.”

“Four to six weeks?” Gordon echoed.

“M-minimum.  I’m confident that Virgil will make a full recovery with no p-permanent scarring to his lungs.  However, even once we’ve got the infection under control it will still leave him greatly fatigued for some t-time.” 

\---

Scott sighed and looked away.  If Virgil needed time then they’d give him as much as he needed, no questions asked.  His health was the top priority after all.  Still, that wouldn’t save him from a stern lecture later on once Scott got hold of him.  

It had been a long time since anything had scared the eldest brother to that degree, and he had no intention of letting his immediate younger brother off lightly.  As soon as he was well again Virgil was going to be doing all the housework for at least a month, no time on his ‘bird allowed. 

“Do you have what you need here on the island to treat him, Brains?”  Kayo’s voice.  Scott was glad she had the sense to ask such a thoughtful question.  He was too busy trying to forget the feeling of Virgil lying limp in his arms.  “I can collect any additional medication in Thunderbird Shadow.”

“Thank you, Kayo, but that won’t be necessary.  I’ve b-been in touch with Doctor Carter in Wellington.  She says the antibiotics we have here should do.”

“Should?”  Gordon this time.  “That doesn’t fill us with confidence, Brains.”

“P-provided Virgil’s condition doesn’t get worse than it already is, which I h-hope is the case.”

“All right then,” Grandma spoke up, standing.  “Everyone finish your drinks and wash up your mugs, then back to bed.  Virgil may be out of commission, but the rest of you are still needed to keep International Rescue running.  You can’t do that if you’re all sleep deprived.”

Scott finally cracked a smile.  “You heard the boss.  Everyone, bed.”

“Thunderbirds are go,” Alan yawned.

Scott watched everyone else trudge down to the kitchen to deal with their mugs before looking back at Brains, and watched as the engineer switched off the projector.  He met Scott’s gaze.

“Virgil is comfortable for now.  M-Max will be monitoring him overnight.  If anything else happens you’ll be n-notified immediately.”

Scott smiled.  “Thanks, Brains.”  He moved from the desk, patted the engineer on the shoulder, and walked away.  The day had been horrendously stressful and Scott was ready to see the back of it.  Virgil’s health scare had shaken him up more than he cared to admit, but at least they now had a better understanding of what was wrong with him.

Scott doubted he would get much sleep, but he needed to try.  He had a sick brother to help care for in the morning.

~*~

Sally walked into the infirmary the following morning, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands.  “Brains, I brought you some tea.”

Across the room Brains startled, and Sally cracked a smile as he straightened his glasses on his face.  “Oh, g-good morning.”

Sally offered him the mug.  “I couldn’t stay away any longer.  How long have you been up?”

“A few hours.”  Brains sipped at his tea.  “Virgil h-had a quiet night.  Acco-ccording to Max he slept right through, and the fever is d-dropping slightly.”

Sally steeled herself and turned to look, an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach.  She would never get used to seeing her family members in the infirmary, though it was part of the life they had all chosen, and to be expected from time to time.

That didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Across the room on the bed lay her second eldest grandson, looking tired and wrung out amongst the medical equipment that stood guard around him.  Virgil was out for the count, head tilted slightly towards her on the pillow as he slept.  Sally moved to his side and brushed her fingers through his hair.  She felt the heat radiating from his clammy skin as her hand moved to his cheek.

A mask fed him a continuous supply of oxygen to assist his breathing, fogged up with his weak exhales.  Sally carefully adjusted the green elastic of the mask at the back of Virgil’s left ear, straightening out a twist to make it more comfortable.  Virgil didn’t even twitch.

Next she turned her attention to the IV Brains had neatly inserted into her grandson’s right arm, providing what she assumed was fluids and antibiotics to fight the pneumonia.  Sally was no expert in medical practices beyond basic first aid, so she was incredibly grateful that Brains knew enough to treat Virgil at home.  Hospitals were horrible places as far as she concerned.  At least at home she could pay Virgil a visit whenever the notion took her, instead of having to wait for visiting hours to come around.

Max rolled up and bleeped quietly, depositing a chair behind her.  Sally took the offer and sank down into it as her hands found Virgil’s.  So much larger than her own, work-hardened skin and the occasional scar on his knuckles.  Sally cradled that hand, remembering a time when it had been so much smaller.

All of her boys had grown up so fast.  Too fast.  She yearned for the days when her arms had been wide enough to embrace them all, and had been able to see over the tops of their heads.  Where had the years gone?

“How long until he wakes up?”

She heard Brains shifting behind her.  “Hard to s-say.  The fever isn’t at d-dangerous levels so it’s most likely fatigue that’s k-keeping him under right now.”

Sally frowned.  Virgil had been looking fatigued for weeks.  The pneumonia must have been slowly eating away at his energy levels, already significantly lower than normal due to so many hard rescues lately, until he’d finally cracked under the pressure.

Why had none of them noticed it was this bad?

Was Virgil really that good at hiding things from them?  Or had they all just been too busy?

That train of thought immediately carried across to the rest of the boys, and had Sally wondering if they were in the habit of hiding things too.  It was an upsetting notion.

“Go and get breakfast, Brains.  I’ll keep an eye on Virgil.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t m-mind staying.”

Sally shook her head.  “It’s fine.  I may not have the skills and knowledge that you have, but I’ve got plenty of experience in watching over sick grandsons.  We’ll be fine until you get back.”

In truth she just wanted a quiet moment to sit with Virgil and convince herself that he was going to be okay.  The pneumonia was treatable and he would make a full recovery, but Sally had still received a terrible fright when she’d seen Virgil slumped unconscious in Scott’s arms.

The whole family had.  Nothing shook a Tracy more than the downfall of one of their own.  Scott had been frantic, Gordon calmer but still in a panic, and Alan had been as white as a sheet.  John may not have witnessed Virgil’s collapse, but the edge in his voice when they’d contacted him later spoke volumes of how much the middle brother was worrying.

The looks on all their faces, coupled with Sally’s own anxieties, had only reminded her of how much her family had already suffered. How much she personally had lost.

Her husband.  Her daughter-in-law.  Her son.

Sally Tracy was sadly well experienced in family bereavement.  She would never admit it out loud, but a tiny part of her was always terrified every time she heard a Thunderbird launch and watched it leaving the safety of the island.  

It was hard not to be scared when her family members were constantly rushing straight into danger, while everyone else ran away from it.

International Rescue was Jeff’s gift to the world, and while the majority of the people they helped were quick to give their thanks, that was it.  Free time was granted when the world allowed it.  Vacations weren’t always possible. Time to lick their own wounds and heal was infinitesimally short.

It was no real surprise that one of their own had finally collapsed under the weight of that immense responsibility and expectation.  It was just a shock that it had been Virgil – the strongest of the brood.  His pneumonia may have been caught in time, and Sally was sure he’d bounce back eventually, but she was all too aware that circumstances could have been very different.

She needed a break from all the worrying.  The whole family needed a break from the stress.

Something had to change.

Virgil’s fingers twitched.

“Gra’ma?”  His voice, usually so deep and gentle, was rough and breathless.

Still music to Sally’s ear.

“Grandma’s here, Virgil,” she said softly, and gave that hand a careful squeeze.  A smile of relief caught her lips when Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.  He must have known it was her just from the touch of their hands – their bond was that strong.

His sleepy gaze wandered around the room before falling on her.  “Wha?”

“You’ve got pneumonia.”  Sally said gently, glad her voice seemed to be keeping him calm.  “How are you feeling?”

Virgil’s eyes slid closed and for a moment Sally thought she wouldn’t get an answer, then the boy grimaced as he tried to draw in a deeper breath.  “Tired…  Hurts.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to manage until you start getting better.  Brains may be a genius, but the human body can’t be rushed.  You’ll have to be patient and wait for your lungs to recover.”

She glanced over her grandson’s prone form to the screen on the other side of his bed, displaying all of his vitals; heart rate, oxygen count, blood pressure, temperature, as well as some other numbers and readings she didn’t understand.

Tracy Island was outfitted with sophisticated medical facilities, and Brains had a detailed enough knowledge of the human body to treat various illnesses and injuries without the need for a hospital.  It was comforting to Sally, knowing they had that option, but not one she ever liked to see in use.

She looked back to Virgil and found his dark brown eyes staring up at her, glazed with fever and emotion.  “What’s wrong?”

Virgil looked like he wanted to cry.  “’m sorry, Gran’ma,” he whispered.  “Let everyone…down.”

Sally’s thumb brushed over his knuckles.  “No, you didn’t.  You just took on a little too much by yourself.  We’ve all done it to some extent.”

While one hand kept a grip on Virgil’s she lifted her other to stroke his hair.  It was a familiar gesture she’d done for all the boys when they were small, but not one she could do much now that they were all grown up.

Virgil had always liked it.

The conflicted look on his face seemed to ease with the repetitive sensation, and Sally found it soothing herself.  She watched the light furrow of Virgil’s brow ease away and his eyes droop.

He was asleep within seconds, what little energy he’d recovered most likely spent on their brief conversation.  Sally felt significantly happier for having seen him awake and spoken to him, and relaxed into her vigil.

~*~

It was just after breakfast when Scott made it down to the infirmary, having insisted that he get some time to check on Virgil before the terrible two would descend and inevitably cause chaos. 

Entering the room he saw his Grandma sitting at Virgil’s side.  Hopefully he’d be able to chase her away to get some breakfast – she tended to forget her own needs when a family member was in a bad way.

His afflicted brother remained none the wiser to Scott’s arrival, caught within the deep thralls of sleep and sickness.  Scott moved closer and rested a hand on his Grandma’s shoulder.

“How’s he doing?”  Voice quiet so as not to disturb, despite how deep a sleeper he knew Virgil to be.

“He was awake for a few minutes, but he’s worn out,” his grandmother replied.  “Brains has him on strong antibiotics, so we just have to be patient.”

Scott nodded.  That was all they could do, and he hated it.  He’d never been good at sitting and waiting.  He’d always preferred to face a problem head on and deal with it with his bare hands, but he couldn’t with this, and it was beyond frustrating.

He took a chair on the other side of Virgil’s bed and sat down, casting a critical eye over his sleeping brother.  “I still can’t believe he hid this for so long.”  The concern and anger were at war with each other in his voice.  “We should have realised this was more than a cough and cold.”

“Maybe,” Grandma mused.  “But you know Virgil.  He’s always been good at hiding illnesses, ever since he was little.  Your father used to panic about it.”  

Scott managed a faint snort.  “That’s putting it lightly.  I remember him wanting to take Virgil to hospital after finding him with a bleeding nose when he was eight.  He was furious when he found out it was because Gordon had hit him.”

Sally chuckled softly.  “You boys were always making him worry.  Your father was a man in constant control until you all came along, then he went to pieces.”

Scott smiled.  “We certainly didn’t make things easy for him.”  His eyes moved to Virgil.  “I’m understanding a bit of what he went through now, sitting here worrying like this.”

“Scott, Virgil is going to be fine.  He’s getting the treatment he needs now.  I don’t think he’ll be down for long.”

“But until then we’re down a man for rescues again,” Scott pointed out.  “I’ve spoken to John and he’s informed the GDF we’re not operating at full capacity right now, so they know they’ll have to pick up the slack.”

He looked up and found his Grandma giving him a reproachful look.  “Don’t let Virgil hear you word it like that.  He’s already feeling guilty.”

Scott scowled and looked away.  “Well he should.”

“Scott.”  That tone held a warning.

Scott shifted in his seat and sighed.  “Sorry, Grandma.”  His hand reached out and rested over Virgil’s forearm.  “He gave me a scare.”

Scott wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Virgil passing out in his arms had been beyond terrifying, especially since Scott hadn’t understood exactly what was wrong.  He’d thought he’d been bleeding internally.

That would give anyone a scare.

Virgil was the strong one.  The calm voice of reason when Scott’s temper threatened to flare up.  The family peacemaker.  The sensible one.  Scott’s best friend and confidant. 

Scott could talk to Virgil about anything.  But Virgil had hidden his illness, and refused to admit the truth until he’d passed out.  Did that mean he didn’t feel the same?

What had Scott done to lose the trust of his closest brother?

He looked up as he heard movement, and felt a glimmer of hope that it might be Virgil stirring.  It wasn’t.  Grandma was on her feet.

“You look like you need some time alone,” she said.  “I’ll go and keep your brothers occupied for a while.”

Scott managed a half smile.  “Thanks, Grandma.”

And then he was alone.  He shifted closer so he could prop an elbow on the bed, and leaned his head heavily in his hand.  He watched the gentle rise and fall of Virgil’s chest.

Up.  Down.  Up.  Down.  Up. Down.

Rhythmic.  Reassuring.  Constant.

Scott let his anger melt away as he listened to each wheezing breath.

“You’d better have a good excuse for this when you wake up,” he muttered.  “You owe me an apology, Virgil.”  He gripped Virgil’s arm a little tighter.  “And I owe you one too.”

~*~

Virgil woke slowly, stiff and sore from being in bed so long, but compos mentis enough to identify what had woken him.  The roar of Thunderbird One’s thrusters as she shot out from beneath the pool was unmistakable.  Virgil idly realised Brains must have finished her repairs.  

How long had he been asleep?

“Oh, I think Sleeping Beauty’s awake.”

And there was Gordon.  Virgil groaned and turned his head away.  Being unconscious was suddenly a lot more appealing.

“Hey, don’t you dare.”  Gordon again, closer this time, practically in Virgil’s right ear.  “I’ve been sitting here fulfilling my brotherly duty watching over you.  The least you could do is say ‘hi’.”

Virgil kept his eyes shut.  “Hi.”  God, his throat was dry.  “Go ‘way.”

A loud and over-dramatic gasp answered him, and then Virgil felt a hand touch his left arm.  Huh?  Gordon was on his right.  So who was--?

Virgil opened his eyes and found Alan staring back at him.  Great.  So he had both halves of the terrible two to deal with.  Fortunately, Alan’s smile appeared genuine, no sign of teasing in his eyes.

“Morning, Virgil,” he greeted.  “How you feeling?”

Virgil considered the question, his brain still a little sluggish.  His chest was aching, though not as bad as he remembered, and he was finding it a bit easier to breathe.  Other than that he was just tired and thirsty.

“’m okay,” he mumbled.

“Oh, so he speaks to you!”  Gordon again.  Virgil ignored him.

Alan rolled his eyes.  “I remember you’re not a morning person, don’t worry, Virg.  Glad you’re awake.”

“So am I, believe it or not.”

Virgil cracked a smile.  “Sorry,” he murmured, and turned his head.  “For worrying you.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Gordon said, and Virgil was glad to hear the teasing tone in his brother’s voice disappear.  “We were all freaking out a bit.”

Guilt swamped him and pooled in his gut.  That had never been his intention.  

“But you’re on the mend now,” Alan said, distracting him.  “Your fever broke yesterday and Brains said your breathing has improved.  He’s still got you on antibiotics, but they seem to be working.”

Antibiotics?  Fever?  Virgil was drawing a blank.  He couldn’t remember much after his collapse.  A brief conversation with Grandma, but what they’d actually spoken about escaped him.  Virgil just remembered her being there, stroking his hair and comforting him the way she always had.

He looked between his younger brothers, then noticed something else.  They were both in their uniforms.

Virgil blinked.  “Rescue?” Breathless.

“Huh?”  Alan looked down at himself.  “Oh, this?  Nah, we’re just back.  Gordon and I took Thunderbird Two to London for a fire.”

Virgil felt worse than before.  He’d missed a rescue, and his brothers were having to pick up his slack.

“And don’t worry, I didn’t scratch the paint, clip a wing or fly her too hard,” Gordon promised.  “Alan made sure I was careful with her.”

“And we saw Fire Chief McCready,” Alan added.  “She was asking after you, hopes you get better soon.”

Virgil blinked.  “How...?”

“How’d she know?  Well, with the way Gordon was flapping his lips to Lady Penelope, Chief McCready heard everything.”

“Think you’ve got yourself an admirer there, Virgil,” Gordon teased.  “She said she and her team were disappointed when you couldn’t make it over a few weeks back.  Were you planning a secret rendezvous?”

Gordon was lucky Virgil didn’t have the energy or the aquanaut would be picking himself up off the floor right about now.  Only Virgil’s tiredness stopped him from attempting to shove his younger brother backwards off his chair.

“She’s just a... friend,” he grumbled, the pain in his chest starting to build.  “Was plannin’ to join her team... for my vacation.”

“Oh…  You missed that because of me.  Sorry, Virg.”

Virgil shrugged weakly.  “‘S’fine.”

The door to the infirmary opened.  “I hope you boys aren’t disturbing him.”

“Gordon is.”

“I’m not!”

Virgil glanced towards the door.  “Grandma?”

The woman came forward, a cup of what Virgil desperately hoped was water in her hand.  It had a lid and a straw, so the odds were looking good for him.

Grandma chased Gordon and Alan away to get changed, then raised the top end of Virgil’s bed so he was in a slightly more upright position.  The movement required no effort from Virgil, but he still felt the strain when he lifted his head from his pillow.

The reward was worth it though, as Grandma slipped off his oxygen mask and guided the straw to his lips.  Cool, refreshing water slipped gently down his throat, reviving him.

His voice, when he spoke, was a little stronger.  “When can I leave?”  He fixed his Grandma with his best puppy eyes, hopeful that she might be able to pull a few strings and he’d be able to leave the infirmary.

He’d be far more comfortable if he could sleep in his own room.  His own bed.  With all his belongings surrounding him and not the god forsaken medical equipment Brains currently had set up to keep him company.

He hoped Grandma would understand and allow him to be moved.

What he got instead was a disapproving frown.  “You’ve only been here two days,” she told him.  “You’re not even finished your antibiotics yet.”

Virgil deflated.  He hated the infirmary.  It was so sterile and depressing that his inner artist rebelled at the mere sight of its bland walls.  One day he was going to attack the white walls with pots of paint.  A literal splash of colour to drown the depressing atmosphere and inject a little life.

That would have to wait until he was well again though.  For now, he tried another question.  “How many missions have I missed?”

Apparently Grandma didn’t approve of that question either, as she tutted and shook her head.

“What’s more important right now, Virgil, is your recovery.”

He frowned.  Recovery from what?  He’d forgotten to ask Gordon and Alan.

Grandma must have read his mind.  “Bacterial pneumonia, that’s what you’ve got.  A nasty case of it, according to Brains.  You’re not going anywhere until you make some significant improvements.”

Pneumonia?  Seriously?!  It was really that bad?  The cough had been pretty awful but Virgil had just suspected a bad case of the flu, not something as potentially serious as pneumonia.

“Just admit it, Virgil, you’re going to be out of commission for a while.”

No!  He didn’t have time for this.  There was too much going on and International Rescue needed him.  He struggled to find his words.

“But, my brothers--“

“Are all quite capable of managing without you until you get your strength back,” Grandma told him, voice soft but with a gentle firmness, leaving no room for arguments.  “Be honest, you know you’re not even close to being air worthy.”

Virgil grumbled and let his body slump further into his pillows, fighting down a weak cough.  The action made his chest hurt and Grandma must have noticed his jaw clenching, because the next thing he knew she was carefully easing the oxygen mask back over his face.  

He groaned in complaint, which went ignored.

“Keep that on a while,” she advised.  “Your lungs are already struggling enough.”  She reached out and fixed a few strands of his hair.  “Try and rest.  I’ll have Scott check in with you once he gets back.”

Suddenly feeling sleepy, Virgil could only nod as she lowered his bed back so he could rest more comfortably.  Far too exhausted to put up any fight against even the gentle actions of his grandma, the mask stayed on his face without a struggle.  He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t deny that it was helping.

His eyes drooped to half-mast.  It was ridiculous how tired he felt considering he’d done nothing but sleep for the past two days, but at least he now understood why.

Bacterial pneumonia was not fun, and Virgil would never be so irresponsible with his own health again.  

He felt Grandma’s lips press gently to his forehead in a kiss and closed his eyes.

“Thanks, Gra’ma…”

He was asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proof read this late at night so hope I didn't miss anything. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews up until now. They really keep me going and make me smile.
> 
> Some of you correctly guessed what was wrong with poor Virgil after chapter two. Was I too obvious lol?
> 
> Chapter 4 coming soon.


	4. It got worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter 4. A little shorter than previous ones. This chapter really kicked my butt towards the end and I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it'll do.
> 
> Anyway, enough of me complaining. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. One, maybe two chapters left I think.

Scott hissed as Kayo dabbed at his stitches with a medical wipe, craning his neck awkwardly to get a look over his shoulder at the wound on the back of his right arm.  “Ow, careful.”

Kayo rolled her eyes.  “It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you’d stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting, you’re just a bad nurse.”  A sudden pain, not in his arm.  “Ow!”

He heard Kayo hum sadistically and rubbed at the shell of his right ear, where she’d just flicked it with her finger.  Damn, she had a mean streak.

“That’s what you get,” the girl commented, and resumed her painful work with the wipe.  “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”

Scott had returned home from his mission late the previous night, after an unexpected trip to hospital.  He’d gone into a factory in Australia to rescue a trapped worker after an explosion, and had stumbled against a torn section of metal plating.  

The sharp edge had made light work of his uniform sleeve, and cut into his arm like a hot knife through butter.  Definitely not one of his best rescues, but he’d clamped a hand over the wound and got the guy out safely.  Scott had considered it a win.

He’d also been very lucky.  The wound was fairly deep, but the metal had missed any major blood vessels, and he’d been able to wrap it himself as a temporary solution so he could fly Thunderbird One to the nearest hospital without getting blood absolutely everywhere.

The man he’d rescued hadn’t required any medical attention, so it had been a strange experience for Scott to go looking for assistance for himself, after landing Thunderbird One carefully near the helipad.

The staff had been wonderful, polite and attentive, but also more than a little star struck.  He’d awkwardly posed for a few pictures with some nurses and a couple of fellow patients before he’d finally managed to escape after receiving treatment.

Explaining to his Grandma why he’d come home minus his right uniform sleeve and stained with blood had been far more uncomfortable that receiving the twelve stitches to sew the gash back together.  He hadn’t seen her since.

Kayo’s voice brought him back to the present.  “What are you thinking?”

“Huh?  Oh, not much.  Just that Grandma seemed pretty mad last night.”

A pause.  “I think she was more concerned.  Virgil’s fever came back while you were gone, and then you came home hurt.  Nothing seems to be going right for us at the moment.”

Scott spun his stool round to face her.  His stomach churned.  “Virgil’s fever’s back?  How bad?  Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Quick as ever to compose herself, Kayo disposed of the used medical wipe in a small box on the table and then reached for a new sterile dressing packet.  “Scott, you were worn out last night.  If we’d told you there’s no way you’d have gone to bed when you did.  We wanted to let you have a proper night’s sleep.”

Scott frowned, feeling anger swirling with his building concern.  “I had a right to know.”  He stood abruptly and turned towards the stairs, but was stopped when a small but strong hand grabbed his wrist.

He looked back and met a set of sharp green eyes staring up at him, an obvious challenge burning within them.  The intensity of the look actually made Scott a little nervous – he was grateful not to have her as an enemy.

With her grip still around his wrist, Kayo carefully tugged him back and pointed at the stool.  “Sit.  You can’t go to him right now, Scott. Not with an uncovered wound.”

It was with great reluctance that Scott did as he was told, and he scowled at the floor like a scolded child as she started to wrap his arm with clean bandages.

“Ew, don’t get any of his blood on the table, Kayo.”  Scott rolled his eyes.  Alan.

“You know, we do have a fully functioning infirmary for stuff like this.”  And Gordon.

“I cornered him with the med kit before he could escape for a morning run,” Kayo explained, and fastened the end of the bandage neatly into place.  “There.  Be careful with it.”

“I know,” Scott grumbled.  He lifted his head as Alan sat down across from him, while Kayo cleaned up and Gordon moved to the kitchen.

“How’s the arm, bro?” Alan asked.

Scott shrugged.  “It’s fine.”  He reached for his coffee which was fortunately still hot and thumbed at the rim of the mug.  “Kayo told me about Virgil.”

He watched Alan tense, then drop his shoulders.  “Yeah, sorry we didn’t say anything last night.  There was just a lot going on yesterday, you know?”

“No, I was away for most of it.  Three consecutive missions.”

“Ah, right.”

Scott didn’t like the hesitance in Alan’s voice.  It only convinced him more that his brother was hiding something, or that the rest of the family were in on a secret Scott wasn’t allowed to know about.  It left an uncomfortable sensation in his gut, which nestled in beside the rising concern he was already feeling for Virgil.

“Alan?”

“What?” Alan squawked.  “I didn’t do anything.”

Scott bit back a sigh.  “You’re not telling me something.  Spit it out.”

“Uh-uh.”

The eldest brother carefully folded his arms.  “Now, or there’ll be consequences.”

“Pfft.  Like what?  You can’t ground me with Virgil already out of action.”

“True, but I have other means of persuasion.”  Scott leaned closer over the table.  “So unless you want to be flying a pink Thunderbird, I suggest you start talking.”

The look of horror in Alan’s eyes made Scott want to laugh, but he kept his face perfectly composed and stern for added effect.  Growing up in a family of five siblings, practical jokes and childish threats were commonplace.  But if there was one thing all of Scott’s younger brothers had come to learn it was that he always followed through with his threats if pushed too far.

Scott was in control of Tracy Industries since their father’s accident, and that meant he had full access to the considerable fortune that kept International Rescue up and running.  Acquiring the substantial amount of pink paint necessary to give Thunderbird Three a full respray could be done with a simple phone call to the right people.

Alan let out a sound of frustration and slumped in his stool.  “Fine.  Just don’t go off on one.  Gordon and I were sort of complaining a bit yesterday about being tired and having so many rescues, and Grandma overheard.”

Scott arched an eyebrow.  “And?”

“And, well, she kind of got really annoyed.  Scolded us for being insensitive towards you and Virgil.  I mean, I get that you guys do more rescues than us, but we didn’t mean anything by it really.”

Things weren’t adding up.  Scott shook his head.  “Alan, you’re not making any sense.  What did you say that made Grandma mad?”

Alan sank down further into his stool.  “We…sort of blamed Virgil for us being so busy.”

And there was the kicker, right in the gut.  Scott could have flown off the handle at the tactless accusation aimed at their sick brother, but somehow he managed to remain calm.  “I can see how that upset her,” he said carefully.

Alan picked at the edge of the table with his thumbnail.  “You mad?”

Scott sat back and sighed, then noticed that Gordon was staring at him from the kitchen.  Having likely caught the entire conversation, the second youngest looked a little pale.  Scott folded his arms.  “Not so much mad as disappointed.”

His two youngest brothers cringed, that one word they all hated hitting them hard.  Scott took a moment to let them wallow, then took a breath.  “What happened after she scolded you?”

Alan resumed his picking at the table’s edge.  “Not a lot.  She made some comment about things changing, then walked away and we didn’t see her for the rest of the day.  Think she spent most of it with Virgil.”

“Changing?” Scott repeated.  “What kind of change?”  He received only a shrug from Alan.

Gordon wandered over with a steaming cup of fresh coffee and placed it down in front of Scott, who recognised it instantly for what it was – a peace offering.

“Sorry,” his water loving brother murmured.  “We didn’t really mean it.  We were just tired and cranky and not thinking straight.  You know we’d never blame Virgil.”

Accepting the fresh coffee over his first cup that was now getting cold, Scott took a sip as he considered his reply.  “What’s happened with Virgil has put a lot of strain on all of us.  I think him hiding his illness caused a few hurt feelings, and we all need to get past that.  But you guys have to be careful what you say around Grandma.  You know what she’s like when one of us gets hurt or sick.”

Both Gordon and Alan gave a solemn nod, and Scott actually took pity on them.  He could tell from the looks on their faces that they were genuinely sorry.  That horrible word ‘disappointed’ had a habit of bringing out a sense of quiet remorse in any Tracy, no matter how stubborn.  It was a word their father had used on them all at times when they were growing up, and it had taught them some valuable lessons.

On the edge of the table the holodisk lit up, and John’s floating form appeared before them.   _“Sorry to interrupt, but we have a situation.  Thunderbird Two is needed in the North Atlantic.  Scott, are you able to fly Thunderbird One?”_

Scott was already on his feet.  “Negative, John.  I’ll go with Gordon and Alan.”

_“F.A.B.  I’ll fill you in once you launch.”_

Scott headed for his chute to get suited up as Alan and Gordon darted off, breakfast and coffee forgotten.  They would continue their conversation later, but for now they had work to do.

~*~

Virgil’s heart was racing as tremors shook his entire body.  Moans of distress left his throat and were muffled in the mask, but not enough to go unnoticed.  Brains’ fingers flew over his holographic monitor as he tried to identify the problem, brought on so suddenly that it had his own heart rate elevated.

One minute Virgil had been resting quietly, his readings fluctuating a little but not enough to be overly concerned about, and then the shaking had started.  First no more than a weak shiver, Brains had raised the temperature in the room a few degrees for comfort. 

It seemed to have worked as Virgil had settled, and the engineer had returned to tinkering on his latest project in his lab.  Less than ten minutes later an alarm had sounded and Brains was back in the infirmary, where he’d found Virgil shaking so hard it almost looked like he was taking a fit.

Virgil was awake, but far from lucid. Brains placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him, only for Virgil to flail without warning and push him away.  The force, powerful despite Virgil’s weakened state, sent Brains stumbling back into a cabinet.  Droplets of blood landed on the floor, the IV ripped from Virgil’s arm in his struggle as panic took hold.

Brains felt about ready to panic too.  “M-Max!” 

The robot rushed forward to assist immediately, his mechanical hands moving with careful precision to catch Virgil’s arm.  He did not apply pressure or try to stop the sick man from struggling, but instead helped to steady him as Virgil murmured nonsense to the room.

“Virgil.”  Brains stepped up beside him again, a medical scanner in his hand.  “Can you h-hear me?  It’s Brains.  You need to c-calm down.”

He might as well have been talking to a brick wall.  Virgil showed no signs of hearing him or even being aware of his presence.  The onset of a full on panic attack sent him into a hacking coughing fit, his back arched off the bed as he tried to twist away from Max’s grip.

“Brains!”  The engineer saw Kayo appear out the corner of his eye as she joined him, adding her own strength to keep Virgil down without hurting him.  “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, he was fine a m-minute ago.” Brains had a quick look at his scanner.  “His temperature is dropping but his heart rate is increasing.”

“Does that mean his fever is breaking?” Kayo asked.  Only her quick reflexes saved her from catching Virgil’s knuckles in the face.

“N-no.  His temperature should go up slightly when the fever breaks.” Brains ran through all the signs Virgil was displaying and felt his stomach knot.  “Oh, no.”

Shivering and chills.  Low body temperature.  Constant shaking.  Erratic pulse and heart rate.  Compromised mental capabilities. 

Those symptoms could mean several things, but all together in this situation, they had the potential to lead to one terrifying diagnosis.

Sepsis.

Brains turned to his desk and opened a comms link to Thunderbird Five.  “John, this is Brains.  We have a situation.”

John’s image appeared in front of him.   _“That’s normally my line, Brains.  What’s the problem?”_

Brains glanced towards Virgil’s bed, where the second eldest brother was mumbling deliriously as Kayo tried to calm him down.  The trembling was getting worse.  Brains felt his stomach drop like a stone. 

“Medical emergency.”

~*~

The mission had gone relatively well, with Thunderbird Two turning for home just after five hours on site at the stricken sea crane.  Scott glanced across at Alan in the pilot’s seat, noting the tension that was slowly working its way back into his little brother’s shoulders.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out why.  They still had a conversation to finish.  Alan had never been good at dealing with the knowledge that he’d disappointed his family.  He always wanted to do well. The pressure of having four older brothers was constant, and while Scott could only imagine what it was like, he was sympathetic sometimes.

It wasn’t easy being the youngest of five.  Then again, it wasn’t easy being the eldest either.

“You did good today, Alan,” he said, in an attempt to break the silence.  His brother looked round hesitantly and Scott offered him a smile.  “You handled Thunderbird Two really well in that storm.  Virgil would be proud.”

Alan’s shoulders relaxed a little.  “He’s taught me a lot about being a sky pilot.” 

Scot chuckled.  “Well, he does like making sure she’s well looked after.  Why d’you think Gordon gets such a hard time from him?”

“Gordon deserves it though.”

_“Hey!”_   Gordon’s squawk came through the comms from Two’s module, where he was finishing up with Thunderbird Four.

“It’s true,” Alan retorted.

_“You’d better watch it, rocket boy.”_

Scott rolled his eyes at their antics as they started to bicker.  Normally he’d step in, but with the way things had been going lately they all needed a little light-hearted banter.  So he let them carry on, and took flight control from Alan so his brother could have a bit of a break.  Scott’s arm was hurting – he really hoped he hadn’t burst any of his stitches – but he could manage to pilot Two without any trouble.

He let himself become absorbed in the thrum that was his brother’s beloved ‘bird, slower than his own but still a pleasure to fly.  They were all attached to their individual ships, but Two was like an extension of Virgil himself; strong, reliable, comforting.  It was no secret she was the world’s favourite, and while Scott would never admit it out loud, he had a bit of a soft spot for the big green beast.

A sudden judder rattled through the ship, accompanied by a warning light appearing on the console.  Scott was alert in a heartbeat.  Experience and training kicked in as he started checking the systems.

“What was that?” Alan asked.  Scott saw him mirroring his own checks out the corner of his eye.

“Fluctuation from the port thruster,” Scott reported and eased back on the throttle, taking the strain off the struggling engine.  The vibration lessened, but remained.

“Adjusting starboard engine to compensate,” Alan announced.  The shaking got worse.

“Dial it back, we can’t risk a blow-out.”  Scott hit the comms switch.  “John, we’re having some engine trouble with Thunderbird Two.  I can’t get Brains, can you patch me through?”

John’s image appeared over the dash. _“Scott, Brains is in the infirmary with Virgil.  His condition has deteriorated, so he’s being prepped for transfer to Wellington Regional.  I was just about to call you.  We need Thunderbird Two to transport him.”_

What?!

Scott cursed and thumped the console, which drew a look of alarm from Alan.  Scott forced himself to take a breath.  He had to think clearly.  “How bad is he?”

John’s expression was grave. _“Brains is concerned he might have developed sepsis.”_

Scott’s heart leapt into his throat.  Sepsis?!  That was serious – people could die from sepsis!  A glance at Alan and Scott saw the colour drain from his little brother’s face.

Now was not the time to panic, even as the ship shook around them. Virgil needed them home as soon as possible.  He was counting on them to get him to hospital.  Scott had to figure out what the problem was and find a way to fix it mid flight.

Thunderbird Two beat him to it.

Almost as quickly as the vibrations had started they disappeared, and the healthy thrum of the twin aft thrusters filled the cockpit once more.  Scott stared at the controls.  The warning light was out.  Thunderbird Two was flying like nothing had happened.

“All systems are green,” Alan said to his right, sounding equally shocked.  “Thrusters showing no signs of strain.”

What the hell?  Where had the problem gone?  Not that Scott was complaining, but problems generally didn’t disappear that quickly.  Was it intermittent?  He shook that thought from his mind.  There would be time to worry about it later.  Getting back to Virgil quickly and safely was his top priority.

“Increase speed,” he instructed.  “Slowly. The slightest shudder and we ease her off again.  Gordon, stand by in Thunderbird Four.  We may need it to transport Virgil by sea if Thunderbird Two wavers again.”

_“F.A.B.”_

“F.A.B.”

Alan worked the throttle with a delicate touch, one that would have had Virgil nodding in approval.  Thunderbird Two responded smoothly, the thrum of her engines rising slightly in pitch as she picked up speed.

Not even the slightest splutter.

Scott just hoped she wouldn’t have any further problems.  Her pilot was counting on her.  The thrusters had seemingly fixed themselves.

It was almost as if she’d known…

~*~

The journey from Tracy Island to the hospital, while relatively short, had been painfully tense.  Everyone seemed to have been holding their breath, except Virgil who’d been struggling to catch his.  Thunderbird Two, despite her earlier hiccups, hadn’t missed a beat, so they’d arrived at Wellington Regional in good time. 

A bustle of doctors had whisked Virgil away for tests and treatment upon their arrival, leaving the family to wait anxiously for news. 

That had been a week ago.  Virgil had been diagnosed with the early onset of sepsis, but thanks to Brains’ observational skills and medical understanding, the hospital had been able to begin treatment before it had the opportunity to turn serious.

Virgil was kept under for the duration, after concerns about him taking another panic attack, and remained peacefully oblivious in his hospital bed while his family took turns sitting with him during visiting hours.

But even then, with one of their own as ill as Virgil was, International Rescue had to keep operating.  They staggered rescues where they could, so everyone had the chance to visit their brother over the course of the week.  John remained up in Thunderbird Five, but tapped into the hospital’s CCTV system and set up a direct link to Virgil’s room.  His older brother’s vitals blipped across the holographic screen where John could see them at all times - it was his way of coping while still carrying out his duties as space monitor.

After running multiple diagnostic tests Brains found the source of Thunderbird Two’s flight problem.  The culprit had been a lone air valve sensor that balanced the mix of fuel and oxygen which fed Two’s thrusters.  Putting out the wrong readings, the internal systems had been unable to determine how much air Two was taking in, resulting in an intermittent running issue that caused temporary loss of power whenever the valve failed to open.

Brains had been quick to replace the tired part and then overhauled the back up system, which had also failed to activate.  It was a strange coincidence, almost surreal in fact, that Two’s problems had been similar to those of her pilot - Virgil’s ‘bird had been struggling to breathe.

With the issue now resolved the green behemoth was back on duty, flown by Gordon and Alan in Virgil’s absence.  It wasn’t a great feeling, even with the knowledge that their brother was slowly making a recovery in hospital.  Thunderbird Two was Virgil’s ship, and no one could handle her the same way.  She performed flawlessly in each rescue, but she was just a ship under the control of Gordon or Alan.

Virgil brought her to life, gave her her own identity and character.  Without him in the cockpit the normally comforting thrum of her engines turned into a listless drone.  It was a feeling none of them could shake, because they’d always associated that comforting sound with Virgil, and now he wasn’t there.

Scott stood on the gantry in the hangar, looking down at her with a sense of loss.  It was stupid and he knew he should shake himself out of the blue mood he’d fallen into, but he just couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do so in that moment.

He’d fallen out with Gordon during a rescue, and snapped at a man they’d been trying to save who’d possessed a Fischler level of stupidity, thankfully without the wealth to back it up.  Not the best of days by a long shot, despite them being successful in the end.  Even Scott had to admit his temper had got the better of him, and while the man had deserved the scathing words that had been directed at him, Scott shouldn’t have taken it out on Gordon too. 

It wasn’t the aquanaut’s fault that he couldn’t handle Thunderbird Two as smoothly as Virgil.  No one could. But Virgil was still in hospital and Scott was struggling without his wingman.  Virgil always kept him on the straight and narrow, having more patience and sense than the rest of his brothers put together.  Except maybe John - they were pretty even in that aspect.

But Scott needed Virgil back.  He’d become so reliant on his brother looking out for him that he now wasn’t capable of pulling himself out of the weird funk he’d fallen into alone.  He meant no disrespect to the rest of his family.  They were all wonderful in their own way, supportive and understanding when he needed them.

But they weren’t Virgil.  Humble, compassionate, understanding Virgil.

Who Scott was still angry with.

Why the hell had he done something so reckless?!  Playing down on his condition instead of being honest with them had brought nothing but stress, worry and hardship.  Scott had thought Virgil was above pulling a stunt so low and inconsiderate.  Why did he feel like he had to hide things from them?

_“Scott.”_

The oldest brother nearly jumped out of his skin.  Just when he thought he was alone to brood, a little brother had to pop up and surprise him.  He glanced back over his shoulder at the holographic figure coming from a wall panel.  At least it was only John.

“You’re almost as bad as Kayo,” he grumbled.  “Sneaking up on me like that.”

_“And you were miles away.”_    There was a smile in John’s voice. _“Did you have a nice trip?”_

Scott’s lips twitched up ever so slightly.  “Are you making a joke?”

John shrugged. _“Alan says I’m too serious and need to lighten up.  I thought I’d make an attempt.”_

Scott hummed.  “He’s a teenager, ignore him.  I’m fine with serious John.”

_“In that case, time for a serious question.”_    The smile in the voice was gone. _“Why are you still awake? It's two thirty in the morning, Scott.”_

Scott blinked.  “It is?”  He checked his watch, and scowled when he realised his brother was right.

_“It is. You should be asleep, not staring into space. That’s my thing.”_

Scott let out a weary sigh and dragged a hand down his face.  “I know,” he admitted with some reluctance.  “Just got a lot on my mind.”

_“Virgil.”_    Scott noticed it wasn’t a question. _“He is improving, Scott. It’s slow, but he’s definitely over the worst.”_

A faint snort.  “That’s what we thought before the sepsis scare.”

John hesitated and Scott didn’t fail to notice.  Neither wanted to say it out loud but both were thinking it.  If Brains hadn’t recognised Virgil’s symptoms for what they were so quickly, Virgil’s life could have been in danger.

Even with modern technology and advanced medical treatment the survival rate of patients with septic shock was only forty-seven percent.  Virgil’s had been caught in time before it could deteriorate, but that margin had been far too slim for the family to cope with.

Scott knew he shouldn’t dwell on ‘what ifs’ but after a scare like that it was hard not to.  If they hadn’t caught Virgil’s sepsis in time and got him to hospital for proper treatment, Virgil would have had less than a fifty percent chance of survival.

That thought was something from one of Scott’s darkest nightmares, and it could have easily become his reality.

All because Virgil had tried to hide things from them.

Scott was hurt, confused, and most of all, angry.

_“Turn around.”_

A sigh.  “Why?”

_“Just turn around, big brother.”_

Scott turned and found a screen projection in place of John’s holographic form.  A green jagged line blipped steadily in front of his eyes, while numbers and other readings surrounded it.

Scott didn’t have to ask to know what he was looking at.  Virgil’s vitals, live from the hospital.

Heart rate.  Blood pressure.  Oxygen saturation.  Respiration.  Temperature.

He may not have understood them all, but that wasn’t important.  What was important was what all those reading represented.

Undeniable proof that Scott’s deepest fears hadn’t come to pass.  Virgil was okay. 

Scott shouldn’t have needed the visual reminder, but it was still a huge comfort.

“Does this have audio?”  A quiet request.  John didn’t even question him, and a second later the steady bleep of a heartbeat echoed softly from the hangar speakers.

Scott closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.  Tried to match his own pulse rate with that of his resting brother.  In that moment, he felt like Virgil was there in the hangar with him.  It didn’t wipe away the anger he still felt, but it eased him enough to put it to the back of his mind. 

_“I’ll leave it on at low levels,"_   John offered. _“Go get some sleep, big brother.”_

Scott let out a breath and conceded defeat.  “Okay, you win.  Thanks, John.”

_“Night, Scott.”_   And the space monitor’s image vanished.

Scott remained where he was for another few minutes, taking time to decompress.  He shouldn’t have had to be told, but he appreciated John’s thoughtfulness.

Virgil was getting the medical attention he needed.  They’d caught the sepsis in time and he would recover.  The repetitive bleep echoing in the hangar was proof his brother was still with them.

Scott kept repeating that like a mantra in his head as he turned to look back at Thunderbird Two, sitting quietly on her turntable.

Some pilots believed their craft had souls, and got emotionally attached to them the more they worked together.  Some even considered them friends.  Scott hadn’t really given the idea much thought personally, but he knew Virgil subscribed to that way of thinking. 

It was just another way that Virgil stood out from the rest of them.  That sensitive, creative streak.  Scott couldn’t wait to see his brother reunited with his beloved ‘bird.

Maybe tomorrow the hospital would call with good news.  Until then, Scott really needed to get some sleep, so he turned and headed back up to the villa. 

Thunderbird Two was left alone in her hangar, to listen to her pilot’s heartbeat, and await his return.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go. Glad to see the end of this chapter if I'm honest lol. Chapter 5 may be the last, but it could reach 6 so we'll all just have to wait and see. Thanks for reading :)


	5. Over the worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah, I finally got this done. I've been staring at this so long it actually started to affect my mood. But after finally setting aside the time to write and not getting distracted, it's done. I hope you enjoy some dopey Virgil, a hint of V/K for a certain Nutty (lol) and Scott blowing a fuse or two.

Sally Tracy sat down at her dressing table in her room, illuminated only by the warm glow of a nearby lamp.  It had just gone midnight, bringing another long and difficult day to a close.  More distress calls, more rescues, more demands placed heavily on the shoulders of her family.  They had all since trudged off to bed, too sore and exhausted to care about debriefing until the morning.

Even Scott hadn’t put up any resistance when Sally had suggested they skip it.

That spoke volumes.

When he, Gordon and Alan had returned home from their last rescue of the day, Sally knew they’d hit a new low.  All three boys were quiet and withdrawn, despite the success of their mission, and more than a little bashed about.

A quick stop at the infirmary had confirmed Alan now had two broken fingers, Scott looked dead on his feet, and Gordon appeared to have completely lost his sense of humour.

The Tracy matriarch didn’t need to look hard to see the deep-set exhaustion sinking into the bones of her three grandsons, and it was a scary reminder of how Virgil had looked before falling ill.

After sending them all straight to bed, Sally spoke with John for a while, checking up on the grandson furthest from her reach.  John had appeared relatively normal in comparison to his brothers, right up until Sally mentioned how tired they’d all been.

Then the concern had filled John’s sea-foam green eyes, and Sally knew they were at breaking point.  If even John was worried then things were clearly bad.

Sally refused to stand by any longer.

She’d told Virgil that his brothers could handle the rescues without his help, but after seeing them all plod in that evening, she now doubted her own words.

The fact of the matter was simple – the Tracy family was running on empty.

Scott was near breaking point, Virgil was in hospital, Gordon and Alan were struggling under the additional pressure and John felt helpless up in Thunderbird Five.  Even Kayo, normally full of life and up for any challenge, had been looking a bit tired over the past few days.

International Rescue was limping along under the weight of so many rescues, distress calls coming in thick and fast.  The GDF weren’t pulling their weight, and Sally was tired of giving them the benefit of the doubt.

So she made her decision.  In the privacy of her own room, where no one could overhear her, she opened a channel to the GDF’s secure line.  Colonel Casey, looking as crisp and professional in her uniform as ever, appeared seconds later.

Sally took a breath.  “Colonel Casey, we need to talk.”

~*~

Virgil groaned softly as he came too, feeling something cool and damp touch his face.  It felt nice, but at the same time it was keeping him from going back to sleep.  Precious, welcoming sleep.

He heard words, muffled and far away.  His brain was still too sluggish to identify the voice, and Virgil had to really work hard to stop himself from falling back into comfortable oblivion.

The wet cloth helped.

It was also nice knowing he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t tell who was keeping him company yet.

Fragmented pieces of memory started to slowly come back to him.  His Grandma’s voice, a burning pain in his chest, Scott holding him in his arms…

Virgil let out another faint groan and tried to move, only to find that his entire body felt as heavy as Thunderbird Two.

Thunderbird Two…  His beloved ship.  Where was she?  It seemed so long since he’d seen her last.  How much time had passed?

“Virgil?”

The wet cloth returned to his skin, fresh and cooler than before.  It roused him a little more into wakefulness, moving gently down past his nose and around the corner of his lips.  A murmur, one that took a minute for Virgil to realise had come from him.

“What was that?” the other voice asked, closer and gentle.  “Virgil?”

Virgil tried to focus his mind and organise his disjointed thoughts. That was definitely a female voice, but it didn’t sound like Grandma.  Kayo then.  Had to be Kayo.

The cloth left his skin.  No, he wanted it back!  It had felt nice and now he was starting to feel warm again.  Bring it back!

Kayo spoke, this time more distant.  “I think he’s coming out of it.”

Huh?  Who was?  Coming out of what?  Virgil wasn’t coming out at all – he was fully straight, thank you very much.  Not that he had anything against LGBT+ people, he just wasn’t one of them.  What had given Kayo the impression he was coming out?  Or had he been somewhere and now he was returning?  Was it even him she was talking about?

Ugh, his head hurt.  Too many questions and not enough answers.

He felt someone touch his left eyebrow and pull it up.  A bright light blinded him in the eye.  Virgil moaned in discomfort and made a weak attempt to pull away, flailing an arm out against his attacker.  He couldn’t understand why someone was trying to hurt him while Kayo was there.

A hand caught his wrist, small but strong.  A lot stronger than he was right now.  “Steady, Virgil.  It’s just Doctor Carter.”

That didn’t help.  He didn’t know a Doctor Carter, did he?  The name didn’t ring any bells.

Virgil kept his arm tense against the grip, until it started to tremble and he was forced to let it fall slack, too tired to resist.  The light moved to his right eye, then retreated a few seconds later, and Virgil could still see the glowing blobs of afterimages burned into his retinas when he screwed his eyes shut.

“Virgil, can you hear me?”  Not Kayo this time.  Another woman.  Not Grandma.  Hmm…  This Doctor Carter then.  Wait.  Maybe that name was a little familiar after all.  Where did he know it from?

“Virgil?”  The mystery woman’s voice again.

Virgil didn’t want to reply out of an immature spite for being so rudely woken.  A minute dragged past before he reluctantly let out a faint grunt, and then the cool cloth made its glorious return to his skin, this time across his forehead.  He felt himself melt into the bed and relax.

“He’s always been grumpy when first waking up.”  Kayo again, and Virgil could hear a smile in her voice.  “Don’t take it personally.”

His eyes finally managed to crack open, and he was met with the blurry image of the young woman looking at him.  Her smile helped lift him out of his miserable mood.  He swallowed, mouth dry, and tried to speak.

“Kay…”

“That’s me,” she confirmed.  “Welcome back, Virgil.”

He frowned.  Blinked slowly.  Tried to engage his brain into something more coherent.  “Not been…nowhere…  Not gay either.”

The brief elation he felt at successfully uttering those few words was short lived as Kayo chuckled.  “You’re still dopey.  Take a few minutes to wake up, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Through…?” Virgil mumbled, not fully understanding.  What could he have been through?  “Tunnel?”  A thought occurred to him as he blinked, still seeing glowing orbs at the back of his eyelids.  “Tunnel…  Stayed ‘way from light…  Not dead yet.”

Kayo’s smile was kind.  Virgil liked her smile.  “No, you’re not,” she agreed, holding the cloth to his forehead.  “Like we’d ever let you go.”

Virgil’s eyes slid shut.

\---

Kayo sat back in her chair and sighed, now relaxed enough to give Virgil a few moments of peace to either go back to sleep or come around all the way.  She placed the cloth she’d been using back in a bowl on the side table, having taken over the job from Grandma, who’d insisted she help keep her grandson comfortable with her more traditional methods.  Fortunately the staff hadn’t had a problem with it, and Virgil had noticeably relaxed when the cloth had first touched his skin. 

He was looking so much better than he had been over the past couple of weeks, with colour coming back into his skin and the fever finally breaking again.  His breathing was easier too, no longer fully reliant on an oxygen mask for help.  His lungs still had a long way to go in their recovery, but the antibiotics had finally cleared up the worst of the infection, and the sepsis scare had been eliminated.  

Now if he could just get over the rest of his fever and wake up fully, everyone would be able to relax.

Movement drew Kayo’s attention away from her sleeping brother.  She watched as the other woman in the room took notes on a pad from Virgil’s readings and checked his fluid bags, quiet and considerate of her patient’s comfort.  Doctor Jayne Carter.  Mid-fifties.  Greying blonde hair and blue eyes.  A compassionate woman who stood for no nonsense from either patient or visitor.

The Tracy family had had a few dealings with her over the years, whenever medical assistance beyond Brains’ capabilities was required.  Jayne Carter was a woman Jeff Tracy had trusted, and she’d signed all kinds of confidentiality agreements to become the family’s official physician on the rare cases she was needed. 

Whenever an International Rescue operative was admitted to Wellington Regional Hospital, it was Jayne who got the call.

Kayo was perfectly satisfied with that.  All of the woman’s credentials checked out and her record was clean.  As head of security, Kayo placed her full trust in Doctor Carter.  She had helped stabilise Virgil’s condition after all.

The experience had been nothing short of terrifying for the family.  From the moment Thunderbird Two had returned to the hangar and Virgil’s hover stretcher had been rushed inside, to that morning when his fever had finally broken, everyone had been holding their breath.  It was nice to know Virgil was now under the care of someone skilled and experienced enough to have earned the trust of Jeff Tracy.

But while Virgil was finally improving, the rest of his family were slowly being consumed by guilt and a bone deep fatigue.  They were all a mess.

Meals had been skipped.  Sleep either avoided or out of reach.  Tempers had flared like wildfire before crumbling like ash, swept away by the winds of exhaustion.  Rescues had been continued but at a severely reduced capacity, everyone always anxious to hurry back to the hospital in case anything else went wrong.

Now, hopefully, they were past the worst of it.  After listening to him struggling to breathe for so long, what Kayo was now hearing was music to her ears.  Each breath Virgil drew in was softer, quieter, without the terrible wheezing and choking.  He was finally making his comeback, fighting to return to them.  It couldn’t come soon enough.  Everyone needed him back.

“Looks like he’s dozed off.”  Kayo glanced up as Doctor Carter stopped beside her, looking down at her patient.  Kayo’s eyes strayed back to Virgil. 

“Can’t say I blame him.”  She found her smile again.  “I think you upset him with the flashlight.”

The doctor smiled.  “Hopefully he’ll forgive me.  The good news is he’s through the worst of the pneumonia, and all his test results came back clear for sepsis.”

The relief Kayo felt from those words was immeasurable.  “That mean the antibiotics worked this time?”  She didn’t think the family could take another setback.

“Yes.  I’d like to keep him in a few more days, but all being well he should be able to go home by the weekend.”

Kayo really hoped Jayne was right.  Things had been incredibly strained since Virgil’s collapse.  The sooner they could get him home the sooner they’d all start to recover.

~*~

“Ugh, you call this coffee?”  Gordon held the offending polystyrene cup at arm’s length and pulled a face.  “I’ve tasted better pond water.”

Alan scowled at him, holding a second cup out to John in the next seat.  “You asked for coffee, I got you coffee.  If you don’t like it then go get your own.”

John smiled and accepted the second cup from his little brother.  “Well said, Alan.”  He felt Gordon scowl at him to his right as he took a sip, and John had to use his best poker face to hide his own grimace as the hot liquid rushed down his throat.

God, that was awful!  Then again, it was to be expected from a cheap vending machine in a hospital waiting room.  John would have to venture further afield and look for a more trustworthy source of caffeine, especially when Scott wanted some.

As Gordon and Alan started bickering quietly, no doubt in an attempt to act normal, John turned his head to look at the chair in the corner of the waiting room, two seats away.  Scott sat with his arms folded and his long legs stretched out in front of him, head lolled to one side against the wall, out cold.

Having completed a quick rescue just a few hours ago, John’s eldest brother had landed Thunderbird One by the helipad and slumped immediately into that chair upon his return.  He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his uniform, and while John felt like he should gently reprimand Scott for that breach in protocol - uniforms were to be worn during rescues only - right now it was better to let him sleep.

At least the waiting room was private, so John didn’t need to worry about any onlookers while his oldest brother ignored one of the main fundamentals made by their father.

Professionalism, determination and teamwork.  Those were the three big factors set out by Jeff Tracy when he’d started up International Rescue.

Sitting slumped in a chair while still wearing a dirty uniform definitely wasn’t what their father would have considered ‘professional’.

Then again, John doubted Scott would have cared right now anyway.

His mood had been nothing short of foul for the past few days, a fact that hadn’t made things easier on the rest of the family, who were equally as worried about Virgil’s condition as he was.  John would never hold it against him, but Scott had not handled the situation well, and it had affected them all.

Had Virgil’s role been reversed with any one of them John knew his second eldest brother would have held the rest of the family together.  He’d always been that way.  A backbone of strength and stability, compassionate and understanding, with the warmest hugs that even a non-hugger like John could appreciate.

Not that Scott didn’t care.  The truth was exactly the opposite.  But he didn’t have that Virgil touch they all took for granted.  Without Virgil, the one of all of them who had always been Scott’s wingman and confidant, John could see his oldest brother for what he really was in that moment.

Scared, isolated and a little bit lost.

The middle Tracy looked away and had another sip of the disgusting coffee, welcoming the distraction no matter how unpleasant it was.  Gordon and Alan had quietened down and Grandma was yet to return from taking a call with Lady Penelope.

Brains was back at the island, where he could be of more use if any calls came in requiring his scientific know-how, and Eos had taken over monitor duty up in Thunderbird Five.  If a rescue call came through, Thunderbird Two could be flown over from the nearby GDF base to collect them on autopilot, and John was ready to attend in Thunderbird One as backup. 

He was a bit out of practice, but all five brothers had a basic knowledge of how to operate each individual’s craft.  Thunderbird One was far from John’s favourite, like a wild mustang that could only be broken by one lone destined rider, but if piloting the silver rocket plane would give Scott a chance to catch up on some sleep then John was prepared to take the reins and try.

The autopilot could worry about the rest.

Movement caught his attention and John looked up, seeing Kayo walking towards them.  A smile touched her lips when her eyes drifted to Scott.  John swallowed.  “Any news?”

“Virgil woke up.”  Those words were like liquid gold.  “Doctor Carter says he’s making good progress.”

Gordon and Alan shared a little celebratory high five.  John smiled.  “That’s good to hear.  Any idea when we’ll be allowed in to see him?”

“Fairly soon I think.  She wants to assess his level of consciousness and make him comfortable first.  She called a few nurses in and asked me to leave.”

John gave a nod of understanding.  The staff would get nothing done if they had the whole Tracy clan descend on Virgil’s room all at once.  It meant a little more waiting, but it was good news.  Good enough to warrant waking Scott.

John leaned over and gave his older brother a nudge in the arm, mindful of the now old injury that was mostly healed, but still tender.  Scott grunted and lifted his head from the wall.

“What?”  Gruff, still half asleep.

“You need to get cleaned up,” John told him, and pointed to a nearby wash room, which was fortunately equipped with a shower. 

Scott scowled at him and made no attempt to move.

“Scott.”  Kayo this time.  “Virgil’s awake.”

And Scott was on his feet so fast he nearly fell over his helmet.  John picked it up off the floor for him, but his brother didn’t notice.

“How is he?  Can we see him?”

“Shortly,” Kayo said.  “Go shower.”

John pulled a bag from under his chair and held it out to Scott.  The eldest had been so distracted lately he’d forgotten to pack a clean change of clothes - fortunately John had been on hand to do it for him before they’d left the island, after receiving a call from Doctor Carter.

“Better do as she says, big brother.”

Scott hesitated. 

John stood and shoved the bag into his brother’s chest, forcing him to catch hold of it.  “Go, now.  We don’t know how long we’ll be allowed in for, so don’t waste time.”

Sky blue eyes locked briefly with sea foam green, and then Scott was away through the door and out of sight.  John sighed and retook his seat.  Hopefully Virgil would recover soon so he could go back to being the family peacemaker.

John found wrangling Scott exhausting.

~*~

Virgil blinked and rolled his head carefully on his pillow in an attempt to ease the stiffness he felt in his neck.  After waking up groggy and more than a little disorientated, he’d had time to get his head together and figure out where he was. 

Nurses had come and gone, freshened him up and done other stuff he’d not paid much attention to.  He now had a nasal cannula fitted, and while the narrow plastic tubing did irritate him a little, the cool fresh air he could feel travelling up his nostrils was welcoming.

For the first time in a while he felt like he could breathe easily, though his chest was still a bit tender and his throat was dry.  He swallowed and shifted.

“Doc?”

Doctor Carter, who he now recognised and remembered, was checking his readings on a nearby monitor, and turned towards him.  She took one look at him and seemed to realise what he was after, because the next moment Virgil was presented with a cup and straw, which the woman held for him while he took a careful drink.

The water, while not cold, tasted amazing.

“Just small sips for now,” the woman told him, and Virgil reluctantly did as he was told.  “You may feel dehydrated but it’s just your mouth and throat that are dry.  The drip has been taking care of the rest.”

Finished with the water, Virgil glanced down at his left arm and scowled at the tubes, catheter and surgical tape holding everything securely in place.  He reached over with his other hand to gently scratch round the tape, but received a tap on the shoulder from Doctor Carter’s chart in reprimand.

“Leave it alone.”

Virgil pouted.  “It’s itchy.”

The doctor moved closer and had a look.  “There are no signs of irritation.  You just want to poke at it.  Don’t.”

Damnit.  She was apparently wise to his pathetic excuse to fiddle with the medical equipment, and if Virgil was honest with himself he wasn’t all that surprised.  For as long as they’d known each other, Doctor Carter had been well aware that he was a terrible patient.

He’d always hated intravenous catheters, despite being trained in how to correctly insert one into a patient.  They just creeped him out and he always felt this unexplainable urge to poke at them whenever he had the misfortune to be fitted with one.

“Is it really necessary?” He grumbled.  “I can take in fluids myself now.”

Doctor Carter raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  “You’re as weak as a kitten, Virgil.  I know that’s hard for you to swallow but it’s the truth.”

Virgil sighed.  “I feel a lot better.”

“Because you’re stationary, and lying down.”  She pointed across the room.  “Until you can get out of bed and walk through that door, unaided and without becoming breathless, you’re in no position to argue.  The IV stays in.”

And that was that.  End of discussion.  Virgil reluctantly gave up.  But it wasn’t like he was trying to be awkward just for the sake of it.  He genuinely hated hospitals.

They were stressful places and he found their chemically sterile smells unpleasant, and the decor was _appalling_.  One lone picture hung on the wall directly across from him - a bland painting of a potted plant done in black and white. 

Was it really too much to ask for a little colour?

“When can I go home?” He asked, deciding to try a more suitable conversation.

“When I decide you’re well enough.”

Virgil scowled and turned his head away.  Doctor Carter was punishing him by only giving vague answers because he’d misbehaved.  He’d forgotten about that particular streak in her.

He sighed, and instantly regretted it.  The back of his throat and something in his chest caught at the harsh exhale, sending him into a weak cough that shook his whole body.  It didn’t last long, but it was a painful reminder of how ill he’d been back on the island.

A warm hand touched him on the shoulder.  “Easy.  Your lungs are still highly sensitive.  Try to keep your breathing steady.”

The light pain faded and Virgil did as he was told, forcing himself to calm down.  With a clear head again he realised he was starting to feel tired, not enough for sleep yet, but his body felt heavy.  He was also getting hungry.  When had he last eaten anything?

Doctor Carter was looking down at him with her observant blue eyes that immediately reminded Virgil of Scott.  “Your family are waiting to see you.  Do you feel up to a visit?  Be honest with me.”

Virgil was worn out from his recovery, but also desperate to see them. He knew he probably had a fair amount of explaining to do, along with some serious apologising.

He’d made a right mess of things, attempting to cover up being sick so he wouldn’t worry his family, only to make it all worse and put them through even more stress and pressure.

All of the hassle and discomfort could easily have been avoided if he’d only let himself get checked out sooner.

Curse him and his stupid pride.  His family deserved better from him.

“I’d like to see them,” he told the doctor.  He managed a weak smirk.  “They’d probably hurt me if I said no.”

“Not while you’re under my care.”  Doctor Carter smiled.  “Once you’re home then that’s your problem.”

A weak snort.  “Thanks a lot, doc.”

~*~

The Tracy family had been told they could visit Virgil two at a time.  That lasted a whole two minutes, until Alan and Gordon blundered in through the door with John and Kayo behind, having failed to stop the terrible two.

Doctor Carter looked a little irritated, but Scott was willing to bet she let them off because of how desperate they’d been to see their brother awake.  Grandma had taken the only chair in the room by Virgil’s bedside, as was her right, her hand cradling his while she spoke quietly with him.

Scott stood by the window, listening as he let everyone else take their turn to talk with their bedridden family member.

Virgil looked exhausted.  Colour was back in his face to banish the sickly paleness, and his skin was no longer clammy with fever which was a huge relief, but he still looked absolutely knackered.

All the medical equipment, monitors, wires and tubes didn’t help much either.  They served as a constant reminder of how ill Virgil had been, and how fragile he still was.  No one walked away from such a severe case of pneumonia overnight.  This would take many weeks to get over - possibly even months.

Scott would need to devise a new operating procedure to ensure something like this never happened again.  People in need of saving depended on the Thunderbirds, but International Rescue couldn’t continue to provide support if their operatives burned out in the process.

Then again, this was an extreme case.  One that could have been avoided if Virgil hadn’t lied about his health.

Scott shifted his weight and the movement caught Virgil’s attention.  Weary brown eyes locked with stormy blue, and Scott became acutely aware that the rest of his family was now watching him.  He stood firm against their gaze.

“Can we have the room?”  Quiet, but his words spoke volumes.

Slowly his brothers and Kayo filed out through the door, with promises to Virgil that they’d be back to see him again shortly.  Grandma was the last to go, and Scott didn’t miss the slightly reprimanding look she gave him on the way out.

Then they were alone. 

Just him and Virgil.

They hadn’t had a chance to speak since Virgil had collapsed that night outside Scott’s room - it felt like an eternity ago.  Missions requiring Thunderbird One had consistently kept Scott away whenever his brother had been awake.  Now, with Virgil conscious and no longer struggling to breathe, there was nothing stopping them.

Except apparently themselves, as seconds dragged on into minutes without a word.

The silence was deafening.

Scott watched Virgil shift on the bed, even that slight movement leaving him breathless after he settled.  How had they not seen this coming?

“So… You’ve clearly got something on your mind,” Virgil ventured.  The words made Scott’s temper start to fizzle.

“I have.”

 Virgil didn’t respond.  Scott noticed his younger brother’s fingers grip the bedsheets on either side of him.  He was clearly uncomfortable, and not just from the pneumonia.

In a normal situation Scott would have hated himself for making any of his brothers feel so unsettled and nervous when speaking with him.  But Virgil had brought this on himself the moment he’d chosen not to be honest with them.

So right now Scott didn’t give a damn.  Virgil had made his bed.  It was time to bloody well lie in it and accept the consequences.

“What the hell were you thinking, Virgil?”  And Scott had finally found his voice.  The tired, hurt and irritated voice of an older brother who’d been near enough pushed to the brink.

He didn’t want to fight. But sometimes, to clear the air, it was unavoidable

His younger brother refused to meet his gaze, and that only made Scott more annoyed.  He took a step towards the bed.

“Virgil.  Look at me.”

Deep brown eyes flicked off to one side.

“I said look at me.”  Scott put more force into his tone, the big brother in him taking a step back to make way for the commanding officer.  Virgil looked up instantly and Scott saw remorse swirling in their depths.

Scott almost cracked.  Almost.  “Why?  Why would you do something like that?  Lie about your health.”

His younger brother held his gaze and didn’t move, seemingly pinned in place by the intensity of his blue eyes.  Scott waited, heard the machines monitoring his brother bleep, the clock tick on the wall, and a bird outside the window chirp far too cheerfully.

“Answer me!”

The snarl, and it definitely was a snarl, made Virgil jump, and then the words came tumbling out.

“I didn’t mean to, okay!  It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

“You might as well have!”

“What?!”

Scott’s hands came down hard on the metal railing at the foot of the bed.  The clatter made Virgil flinch.

“What you did was totally irresponsible!” Scott snapped. 

Virgil stared back at him, jaw dropping open.  His heart rate increased.  “Are you…  Are you accusing me of getting sick on purpose?”

Scott’s temper hit the roof.  “I’m accusing you of being a liar!”

The flash of hurt on Virgil’s face didn’t go unnoticed.  Good.  It was supposed to hurt.

The tension in the air was so thick that Scott felt he might be crushed under the pressure of it.  On the bed Virgil was faring no better.  He appeared to have stopped breathing.  The monitor he was connected to was starting to panic as his pulse climbed.

Scott and Virgil were the two eldest brothers of the family.  They loved each other, but at the end of the day they were brothers and sometimes brothers fought.  But Scott had never accused Virgil of being a liar before – Virgil was nothing if not honest.  It was one of his most defining traits.  Scott could always count on his immediate younger brother to be honest and genuine with him.

Until now.

His reasoning aside, Virgil had betrayed Scott’s trust by keeping things from him, and the eldest didn’t know how he should respond.  Shouting and causing a scene when his brother was in hospital certainly wasn’t the best way to go about bridging the gaping chasm that had suddenly formed between them, but after the hellish weeks the rest of the family had endured at the hands of Virgil’s own stupidity, Scott had given up on trying to be tactful.

“You lied,” he said in a low voice, expression cold, eyes a storm of emotions.  “You had plenty of opportunities to come clean, but no.  You decided to act like nothing was wrong, lie to our faces and then land yourself in here.  Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through?  What you’ve put Grandma through?”

Virgil shrank under his gaze, shoulders hunched with the hanging of his head.  He was the epitome of shame and his voice, when he finally found it, was small and timid.  “I thought I could handle it…”

“Look what thought did!”

A flicker of anger lit up in Virgil’s eyes, fixed to his lap.  His hands curled slowly into fits.  “You can’t talk,” he mumbled.  “You’re always pushing things too far.”

Scott was on the point of exploding.

How dare he. 

How _bloody_ dare he!

“And you’re the one who lectured me for it.  Now you’ve done the exact same thing.”  Scott gripped the metal rail so tight it hurt.  “Do you even know how ill you were?  How worried we were?  Jesus, Virgil, we thought we might lose you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not good enough!”

The door to the room rolled open, and Scott glanced over just long enough to see Grandma and Doctor Carter step inside.

“What is going on in here?” Grandma asked, a stern look on her face as Doctor Carter moved to check on Virgil.

Scott took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.  “Just talking, Grandma.”

“Talking?  We could hear you from the hallway.”

Scott huffed and looked away.  He heard Virgil draw in a shaky breath, then cough weakly.  The sound made the eldest brother wince, and he turned back to see the doctor adjusting the oxygen flow in an attempt to get Virgil’s breathing back under control.  He was sheet white again.

Scott suddenly felt sick.  He had done that.  A look to his grandmother and he saw that disapproving frown back on her face.  He swallowed.  “Okay, so I lost my temper a bit.  I can’t help it, I’m mad.”

“Scott.”  This time it was Doctor Carter.  “I know you’re upset.  But if you don’t calm down I will have to ask you to leave.  Your behaviour is detrimental to my patient’s health.”

Scott tried not to snort at that.  Virgil himself was detrimental to his own health.  It was his stubbornness that had got him into this mess, not Scott’s temper.  Still, the idea of saying that out loud didn’t seem like a very good one in that exact moment.  Scott knew when to pick his battles.  Up against Doctor Carter he knew he couldn’t win.

It was one of the things his father had admired in the woman.  She didn’t give a toss that she was speaking to a member of the Tracy family, one of the richest men in the world, or the leader of International Rescue.  To her, Scott was just another visitor at her hospital.  She had the authority to throw him out on his ass if she felt that way inclined.

So he backed down. 

“My apologies, Doctor.”  The calm professionalism was back in his voice.  “Please excuse me.”

One last glance at Virgil, who was too busy trying to breathe normally to look at him, and Scott marched out of the room.  Back straight.  Shoulders tense.  Heart hammering in his chest.

No sooner was he out in the hallway and Grandma had him cornered.

“That was unacceptable, Scott.”

“I know…  I’m sorry, Grandma.”  And he was back to being a child again, quiet and remorseful as she reprimanded him.  “I lost my temper.”

He heard her sigh and chanced looking at her.  She stood with one hand on her hip while the other rubbed at her face, nearly knocking her glasses out of place.  She looked tired and stressed, like the rest of them, but a moment later it was gone and she seemed to have collected herself together again.

“This has hit us all hard.  Everyone’s exhausted.”

Scott hummed in agreement.  “Well, until Virgil is back flying Thunderbird Two, the rest of us will just have to manage.”

Silence.  No acknowledgement or agreement from his grandmother.  Scott frowned.  He’d expected at least something.

“Grandma?”

The woman sighed again and looked up at him, and clasped her hands together in front of her.  “Actually, we need to talk about that.”

Uh-oh.  Scott’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “What?”

Grandma stared back at him, quietly unwavering, until her eyes flickered past him upon hearing approaching footsteps.  He didn’t even need to look to know at least one of his brothers had appeared.

“What’s going on?”  Gordon’s voice.

“Is Virgil okay?”  Alan too.

Scott held up a hand to silence them.  “What’s going on, Grandma?”

His gaze was met with a pair of equally intense blue eyes.  Whatever she was about to say was important, and Scott knew from previous experience that he would just have to accept it.  When Sally Tracy made up her mind about something, no force on Earth could shift her.

“I’m sorry, boys, but I can’t let this slide.  Everything lately with Virgil’s health and the strain you’ve all been under, it’s made me realise that we can’t keep going like this.”

Scott felt his stomach tie itself in a knot.

“What are you saying, Grandma?” John’s voice.

The woman cleared her throat and straightened her back, the matriarch of the family standing by her decision.

 “I’ve spoken with Colonel Casey about our circumstances.  As of this moment, International Rescue is on hold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. I'm anticipating one more chapter to tie things up. Sorry for the delay in updating and thanks to everyone who has supported me so far. Please drop me a review if you like - they always make me smile and keep me motivated, and I treasure every one.


	6. The road to recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the final chapter is here. It's taken me WAY longer than anticipated and it's a MONSTER compared to the other chapters in length, but here it is.

Gordon had called a meeting.

It was two in the morning, they were back on the island, and he couldn’t sleep.  A quick check of his personal pad and the network had told him all but one of his brothers was currently active.

So Gordon had called a meeting.

In Scott’s room.

And from the look on his big brother’s face Gordon was willing to bet his beloved celery crunch bars that Scott did not approve of his personal space being invaded at such a late hour.  Unfortunately however for Scott, Gordon didn’t care. Better to meet in Mr Regimented’s room, where at least they all had space to sit down. His own room was probably too much of a biohazard to invite guests into.

Gordon lay stretched out on his back across the middle of Scott’s bed, while Scott sat beside him and scowled.  Alan took up the space at the end, munching on shop bought cookies, and John was sitting in Scott’s office chair.  Kayo had perched herself on the eldest Tracy’s desk.

All of them were dressed for bed, but sleep was far from their minds, hence the reason Gordon had called this meeting.  The purpose of said meeting was simple. Talk about the bombshell Grandma had dropped on them at the hospital, and figure out what the hell they were supposed to do now.

“I don’t get why she’s stopping us all,” he complained, directing a scowl towards Scott’s ceiling.  “Virgil’s the one who’s sick.”

“Grandma is worried about all of us,” John spoke up, voice calm and controlled as ever.  “This situation is frustrating, but right now we don’t have much of a choice.”

Gordon pulled a face.

A sigh from Scott.  “John has a point. We may not like it, but we have to respect Grandma’s wishes.”

Gordon snorted.  He could practically hear Scott clenching his jaw at that admission.  “Thought you were Commander and Chief?”

Blue eyes narrowed at him.  “If you feel brave enough to challenge her authority, by all means go ahead.”

A snigger from Alan.  “She’d probably chop you up for her next meatloaf surprise, Gordo.”

Gordon’s immediate response was to shove a pillow in his little brother’s face, then swipe the packet of cookies for good measure.  Scott proceeded to scold them both for getting crumbs all over his bed.

“Can we get back to why we’re all here, please?” John asked, sounding a little fed up.  “Otherwise I’m going back to bed.”

Gordon pouted and sat upright.  “Okay, okay. Don’t let the gravity bring you down, Johnny.”

His older brother rolled his green eyes.  “Gravity has nothing to do with it, and don’t call me Johnny.  I don’t see what you were hoping to achieve with this in the first place.  Grandma has made her decision and it’s backed by Colonel Casey. They clearly both think we need a break.”

Gordon opened his mouth to complain, only for Scott to beat him to it.  “I’ve never liked forced vacations, but this one feels like a punishment more than anything else.”

Alan raised his hand.  “I agree with Scott on that one.  We didn’t even get a choice.”

“Probably because she knew we would argue,” John replied.  “If I’m honest I’ve kind of been expecting something like this.”

Gordon, Scott and Alan all stared at him with matching expressions, until Gordon scowled.  “Care to elaborate on that?” he asked, frustrated when John didn’t immediately expand on his comment.

The middle brother shrugged.  “If you look at it from Grandma’s point of view it’s really not that surprising.  She watches you all risk your lives on a daily basis, while she’s stuck waiting for good news.”  John looked away. “I can relate to that a bit.”

Gordon frowned.  “Uh, John, you’ve risked your life with rescues plenty of times too.”

“Not as often as the rest of you,” John pointed out.  “Scott and Virgil fly out most, that’s a fact, and we can’t deny the strain it’s causing.  Virgil’s pneumonia was serious, and Scott is close to having a nervous breakdown.”

“Hey, I am not!”

John sent Scott a withering look and Gordon was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.  Testing John’s patience was never a good idea, as he had a habit of holding grudges - Gordon blamed all that time up in space with only a sentient computer program for company.

“I think it’d be wise for us to view this halt in operations less as a grounding, and more as a temporary leave of absence,” John suggested, so in control and logical that Gordon wanted to strangle him.

“Are you saying we do nothing?”  Scott again, and his pitch had crept up a few notches with his anger.

“We can’t do that,” Alan insisted.  “There are too many people who need us.”

“Yeah,” Gordon agreed.  Screw John’s logic and self control.  They had a right to be angry about all this.  They hadn’t done anything wrong and they were essentially being punished for it.  “I’m not up for turning our backs on the world just because we’re feeling a little tired.”

John raised an eyebrow.  “A _little_ tired?”

Gordon let out a sound of frustration and flopped back across Scott’s bed again.  “Fine, a _lot_ tired.  But we can’t call ourselves International Rescue if we stop rescuing people.”

“Would you listen to what I’m saying?” John grumbled, finally sounding like he was starting to get irritated - Gordon felt a flash of triumph at getting a rise out of him.  “This is just a temporary thing to give us all a break. It’s for Grandma’s benefit as much as our own.”

Gordon remained silent and glowered at the ceiling again.  That may be the case, but Grandma and Colonel Casey should have at least included them in the decision process.  Going behind their backs was a low blow. They weren’t little kids. They had a right to a say in the matter.

It was Alan who broke the silence.  “Kayo, you’ve been pretty quiet.”

Gordon sat up again and looked across the room at their sister, still perched on Scott’s desk.  He’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Being quiet is part of my job, Alan.”  There was a hint of a smirk on her lips, but it quickly vanished.  “I agree with John.”

“Oh, come on!  Seriously?” Gordon threw his arms up in the air for emphasis, but he was mostly ignored.  

“Hear me out,” Kayo insisted.  “Think about how much this family has lost over the years.  Grandma probably can’t face losing anyone else.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.  It was Alan who tentatively broke it.  “Dad…”

The sadness that one word conjured up was almost palpable - the room mellowed significantly and no one dared to move for a moment.  Gordon stared at Scott’s carpet, his expression slowly morphing into a scowl. He could understand his Grandma’s actions, really he could, but at the same time he still disagreed with them.  

Ceasing operations with International Rescue wouldn’t keep them safe indefinitely.  Accidents happened all the time, often in the most unexpected of circumstances or places.  Hell, they could even happen at home. Any one of them could trip going down the stairs tomorrow and break their neck.  Did that mean they should condemn the stairs too?

John broke the silence.  “Colonel Casey and the GDF will handle rescues for now.  I should be able to negotiate authorisation for us to scramble for anything major.”

Gordon snorted.  “Right, the GDF. Tell that to all the people needing rescued right now.  I’m sure it’ll make them feel loads better.”

“It’s a compromise, Gordon,” Kayo pointed out.

“A lousy one.  I hate being put on the back bench like this.  It’s worse than being replaced by those robots.”

“They were GDF too,” Kayo reminded.

“Yeah, but at least they kinda helped until the Chaos Crew messed with them.”

“True.”

“Okay we’re getting a bit off topic here.”  And there was Scott, Mr oldest brother and IR Commander stepping in again.  In a way Gordon was glad. This conversation was just going in circles. Not the meeting he’d had in mind.

“For now all we can do is make the best of the situation,” Scott continued.  “John, see how you get on with that negotiating for worst case scenarios. Kayo, your job hasn’t really changed much but make sure you take some downtime.”

The security chief nodded.  “F.A.B.”

“Oh!  Let’s have a beach day!” Alan piped up, excitement all over his face until one of Scott’s large hands came down on his head.

“You’ve got lessons to catch up on, little brother.”

“Aww, seriously?!”

Everyone chuckled, and the atmosphere relaxed considerably.

Gordon sniggered as he watched Scott ruffling Alan’s hair, before his gaze flickered across and caramel brown met with ocean blue.  Uh oh.

“And you can do some maintenance on Thunderbird Four.  And clean your room - no more impromptu meetings in mine because yours is a mess.”

Gordon pulled a face and averted his gaze.  “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

The meeting concluded shortly after that and everyone filed out of Scott’s room to return to their own.  Gordon reached his door and stepped inside, only to pause when he heard Kayo’s voice. He turned, peaked out through the narrow gap, and couldn’t resist lugging in on the conversation, just a bit.  

“You’re still going to have to talk to him, Scott.”

“I know, Kayo, I know.”

“I hope so.”  She sounded doubtful.  “I know it’s been difficult, but we really need you and Virgil talking again.”

Gordon bit his lip as he heard Scott huff out a sigh.  “Virgil and I will be fine. We’ll get everything straightened out when he comes back.”

“I mean really talk to him,” Kayo clarified.  “Not as the leader of International Rescue, but as a brother.  There’s fault on both sides here, Scott.”

Oh, Scott did not look like he took that well.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are two ways you could handle this,” Kayo replied.  “You need to pick the right one.”

She turned away and Gordon carefully eased his door closed before Scott could notice him spying and get mad.  He sat back against the wall and took a moment to absorb Kayo’s words, as well as the conflicted look he’d seen on Scott’s face.

It had been naive of Gordon to think he could help by calling a stupid meeting, where they hadn’t really achieved anything except a bit of a ranting session.  Grandma calling a halt on International Rescue wasn’t the heart of the problem, not by a long shot.

It was Scott and Virgil.  There was more to the situation than a simple fight, but Gordon didn’t have all the pieces to that particular puzzle and it was now way too early in the morning to even attempt trying to figure it out.  

He sighed and felt his way towards his bed in the dark.

Hopefully things would look better in the morning.

~*~

Virgil was released from the hospital three days later and John was the one to fly out and collect him in one of the family’s private jets.  Low key. No hassle or unwanted attention from the press. Virgil was grateful for that.

While now on the road to recovery and deemed fit enough to return home by Doctor Carter, Virgil still felt worn down and lethargic.  If John had decided to turn up and collect him in his favourite ride, he honestly didn’t think he’d have the energy to do anything more than grunt.

The truth was he hadn’t been sleeping well, and Virgil put it down to one lone factor.

Scott.

Since their fight in Virgil’s hospital room the two brothers hadn’t spoken a word, and the eldest Tracy had not returned for another visit.  Virgil felt more than a little betrayed.

They’d never gone this long without talking.

“I’m sure Scott didn’t mean to leave things hanging the way he did,” John said as they taxied along the runway and into Thunderbird Two’s hangar.

Virgil turned his head and looked at his brother.  Was he that obvious? Or had John finally cracked telepathy and mind reading like he’d vowed to do as a young boy.  Virgil honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

John’s seafoam green eyes looked back at him as he brought the plane to a gentle stop and powered down the engines.  “He’s been having non stop calls with the GDF, giving them advice and setting up advanced training courses. I think he’s just filling his time until Grandma lifts our grounding.”

Virgil snorted.  Yeah, that sounded like Scott.  All work and very little play. International Rescue was a driving force in his eldest brother’s life, so it kinda went without saying that Scott wouldn’t take much time off for himself.

But still... _one_ visit.  That’s all Virgil had hoped for.  An opportunity to clear the air between them and move past this whole fiasco.

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?”  He looked back at his brother and saw the worry in the crease of his brow.

“You’re awful quiet.  Are you feeling okay?”

Virgil sighed.  He supposed he should get used to that question for the next little while.  Everyone was going to be nervous about his health and any possible relapses. He couldn’t blame them really.

“I’m fine, John.  Just a bit tired.”

He opened his door and climbed out of the plane, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  “Thanks for the lift.”

\---

John watched Virgil head off for the elevator, shoulders slumped and feet near dragging on the concrete as he went.   Not the walk of a man happy to be home.

Alan’s holographic image appeared in the cockpit.   _“Hey, John.  Good flight?”_

The middle brother was a bit distracted, so he just nodded and ran a few post flight checks.  “Nothing to report, Alan.”

Alan frowned.   _“Where’s Virgil?”_

“On his way up,” John replied.  “Best give him a bit of space for a while.”

_“But he only just got home.”_

John set his steady gaze on his little brother.  “Just because he’s out of hospital doesn’t mean he’s back to normal, Alan.  He’s tired and needs to settle in again, so don’t be a nuisance.”

A scowl, very like Scott’s in a way - especially with those blue eyes.   _“I take offence to that.”_

John mustered a half smile.  “Of course you do. But seriously, go easy on him today.”

_“Fine,”_ Alan whined, then turned and looked off to one side.   _“Oh, here he is.”_

And Alan was gone.  John shook his head and moved to climb out of the cockpit, but stopped when something caught his eye.  He turned and reached down, finding Virgil’s sketchbook lying on the floor.

Realising that his brother had obviously dropped it John tucked the sketchbook under his arm and left the aircraft, then made the long walk across the huge hangar towards the elevator.  Thunderbird Two’s impressive mass towered over him in her bay, and something about the great green ship made John pause.

Virgil hadn’t even looked at her.  Not a single glance. That was very out of character, and spoke volumes in terms of Virgil’s current mental state.  He _loved_ Thunderbird Two, spent more time tending to her with general maintenance and wax polish than the rest of them on their own ships put together.  If he wasn’t flying her he was working on her. If he wasn’t working on her he was drawing her.

John quickly opened the sketchbook and flicked through the pages.  It may have been an invasion of Virgil’s privacy but his older brother clearly wasn’t himself and John wanted to understand why.  Maybe a glance through the pages would give him some insight into how his brother was feeling, and why he’d been so quiet on the flight home.

John was all about observing and then gathering accurate information to back up his theories and ideas.  It came as naturally to him as breathing, and a lot of that was due to his position as space monitor up on Thunderbird Five.  

But John could see just as clearly from the ground.  Whatever was going on with Virgil was a situation that needed to be addressed, and handled delicately.

The sketchbook was a good place to start.

Every sketchbook Virgil Tracy had ever owned since they’d started International Rescue had at least ten pages depicting his beloved green Thunderbird, be it scaled down yet detailed drawings of the entire ship or rough sketches of her massive collection of equipment and module vehicles.

Virgil knew his ship and her payload inside out, back to front and upside down.  That was always clear from his drawings. Every detail was always perfect, made all the more impressive given the fact they were all drawn from memory.

Thunderbird Two would always hold a special place in Virgil’s heart as well as his sketchbooks.  There were _always_ pictures of her.

Until now.

John couldn’t find any.  Not a single one. Only a few pages were still blank towards the end of the book so Virgil had clearly been busy while in hospital, with the most recent pages dated the previous day.  It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had time to draw at all.

But Thunderbird Two had been left out.  For the first time ever.

In fact as John looked closer he realised there were no pictures of any Thunderbirds amongst his brother’s sketches, or anything at all related to International Rescue.

The first few pages were graced with images of the island and villa, including the pool and grounds.  John recognised some of the views from the trails across the island that were often used for fitness training, and he commended his brother once more for his exceptional abilities with a pencil.

Then about six or seven pages in Virgil’s focus moved to the inhabitants of the island.  Grandma with her batch of burned cookies, Gordon in the pool, Kayo training in the gym, Brains tinkering with Max and Alan snoozing in a hammock.  Even Lady Penelope and Parker made an appearance.

John blinked when he turned another page and found himself and Scott sitting at the kitchen table playing chess.  Every image was so lifelike, every scratch of the pencil so carefully considered and executed. He could see the concentration etched into Scott’s frown, and the barely there smirk on his own lips.  Virgil obviously remembered that their eldest brother had never once beaten John at the game, despite many valiant attempts.

John wasn’t the only one with exceptional observation skills it seemed.

He had seen Virgil draw each of them before, but this felt different.  Perhaps it was Virgil’s way of coping with the isolation he’d endured while stuck in hospital, far from the rest of his family.  He was a lot more sensitive than the rest of them after all. John was always quite happy up in space aboard Thunderbird Five, far enough away from all the chaos on Earth but just a call away to offer help and advice.  

Virgil was his polar opposite in that regard.  He liked being around people, so the hospital must have felt pretty lonely.

The next page showed all of them together, a collage of the whole family with glimpses of their individual personalities - Gordon and Alan laughing their heads off while Scott rolled his eyes with a fond smile.  

But it was the last picture on the following page that made John really stare.  Beside that one of all of them smiling and happy, a neat mahogany desk with a single occupant, working away under the light of a lamp.

And a name plaque on the front of the desk.

_Colonel J. Tracy._

“Dad…”

~*~

Virgil’s return home had not gone how he’d hoped, but a part of him had known that would be the case ever since he and Scott had fallen out at the hospital.  

The flight back with John had been quiet and relatively peaceful.  Virgil always enjoyed conversing with his immediate younger brother.  They understood each other and had many similar interests, yet they could also appreciate each other’s differences without butting heads about it.

There were never any awkward silences with John.  Not for Virgil. Both could talk about physics and engineering to their heart’s content without fear of boring the other, and those conversations were always enjoyable.  Sometimes though it was nice to just sit together in the same space and not have to worry about any words.

Companionable silence.  Quiet and relaxed.

Virgil had actually been surprised how quickly he’d settled to watch the clouds pass by as John had turned their plane for home.  After being cooped up in the hospital he’d expected himself to be the one to start up an immediate conversation, get news on how everyone was doing, what the situation was with International Rescue, and how many times Grandma had tried to poison them all with her culinary delights.  

Instead he’d done none of that, but calm and respectful John had not tried to pry or goad him into conversation like any of their other brothers would have done.  Virgil had been grateful for that. He could always rely on John to respect his need for some time alone with his thoughts.

Virgil did however suspect that the middle brother must have said something to the others, for when he’d arrived in the villa Alan had been very restrained in welcoming him home.  He’d still received a hug from their littlest brother which Virgil had been more than happy to return, but the usual bombardment of questions Alan was known for throwing out had not followed.

Gordon had also been on his best behaviour, something that may have made Virgil a bit more suspicious if he hadn’t been so tired.  His Grandma had welcomed him home with a warm hug of her own and a kiss on the forehead, and that had brought a smile to his lips as she’d suggested he take some time to settle in.

After briefly seeing Kayo and Brains and realising Scott was nowhere to be found, Virgil had decided that retreating to his room was the best course of action.  He’d missed his family greatly and was glad to be home, but it had been an emotional couple of days and he was tired.

He’d flopped down on his bed after toeing off his boots, pulled his green sherpa over himself for added comfort and protection from the outside world, and eventually dozed off.

After napping for an hour or so he was up again and looking for something to do, and his aimless wandering eventually took him all the way down to Thunderbird Two’s hangar.  The huge ship was standing up on her struts as was her norm when not in use, and Virgil cast a critical eye over her for anything out of the ordinary.

“Hey, big girl.  Sorry I ignored you earlier.”

It felt like an eternity since he’d seen her last and the words didn’t do their reunion justice, but Virgil chose not to dwell on it as he began a visual inspection of his craft.  He didn’t know how many times she’d been flown since he’d been in hospital, and none of his brothers were as thorough as he was about external post flight checks. They all relied too heavily on the automated systems and repair bots for Virgil’s liking - except maybe John.

Soon Virgil was up to his elbows in Thunderbird Two’s port side air intake, stood on a platform with a torch in hand as he examined the grilles for any signs of damage.  It was one of those jobs that could have been done within seconds using a scanner, but on this occasion Virgil opted for the more time consuming low tech approach.

Besides, the longer he spent working on Thunderbird Two, the less chance he had to think about Scott.   

~*~

John made the trip up to the round house and found Scott sitting behind his desk on a video call with Colonel Casey and Lady Penelope, his back to the door.  John waited patiently for Scott to finish, never one for interrupting, and approached the desk once Scott hung up.

“What can I do for you, John?” Scott asked, turning back in his chair.

John’s brow creased with a slight frown, Virgil’s sketchbook heavy in his hand.  “We’ve been back over two hours, Scott. Exactly when are you planning to finish here?”

“Whenever I get done,” Scott answered, a little on the curt side.  “Colonel Casey is considering relaunching the R.O. Bot project. After the situation with the Chaos Crew she’s wanting our assistance to get the bots all up and running again.  Lady Penelope is there to watch over the progress while Brains looks over the operating system from here.”

John gave a small nod of approval.  It was a decent idea. The robots had potential even if they had become something of a nuisance for International Rescue during their short bout of operation.  Provided they weren’t hackable, and their control modules were kept secure this time, they could be a valuable asset to the GDF. That would give the Tracy family some breathing space when they needed a bit of a break or were swamped with other missions.

It was logical that Scott was looking into the possibility, but his timing could have been better.

“Why don’t you come down?” John suggested carefully.  “Take a break and see Virgil for a while. Grandma got me to collect a cake to celebrate him getting out of hospital, but I can’t guarantee you’ll get a bit if you stay up here much longer.”

He was giving Scott an opportunity, a chance to resolve things with Virgil without the whole family knowing John had been forced to step in.  If Scott came down of his own volition it would look a lot better than him being badgered into it.

Surely he had the sense to take the invitation for what it was - a chance to save face and make amends.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.  I’ve still got a lot of work to do and I’m not really in the mood for cake.”

Nope.  Apparently not.

John frowned.  Very well. Let the badgering and guilt tripping commence.

“Virgil will think you’re ignoring him.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are.”

Silence.

Scott stared at him.

John stared back.

He could tell from the look on Scott’s face that he hadn’t expected the edge in his tone.  John wasn’t one for confrontation in most cases. If ever annoyed with someone he tended to go for the cold shoulder approach until both parties cooled down and could talk civilly, when time granted them that luxury.

This time he was geared up for an argument, and Scott had a target on his chest.

“Don’t you think it’s time the two of you resolved this, before it gets any worse?”

Scott sat back in his chair.  “Resolve what? We had a bit of a squabble in the hospital, that’s all.”

John was not impressed.  “Scott, you know I respect you and trust you to make the right decision, but please don’t sit there and insult my intelligence.”

Scott looked baffled.  “I’m not.” He frowned.  “And I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“You just said Lady Penelope and Brains are assisting the Colonel with the project,” John reminded him.  “So what’s keeping you so busy up here? You’re not directly involved.”

He saw the split second Scott went on the defensive, even before he opened his mouth.  It was written all over his face.

“I’ve been liaising with them so the GDF can assist us with the project.  They need key information on how we operate on the ground to establish an efficient support network.”

“All of which could be provided accurately by EOS through access to my mission reports,” John retorted.  “Access I am more than willing to grant. Again I ask, what are you doing?”

Scott huffed and grabbed for his pad on the table, clearly not willing to answer.  John knew he’d called his brother’s bluff - Scott was hiding and John wasn’t about to sit by and let it continue.  Problems didn’t just go away if they were ignored. They had to be dealt with at the source.

Scott knew that.

Virgil deserved more.

And John had had enough.

He reached across the desk and yanked the pad from his brother’s fingers.  It was more the kind of thing Gordon would have done, but in this instance John realised he didn’t have any other choice.  If Scott wasn’t going to listen to him then he’d damn well make him.

“Give that back.”  It came out like an order, one barked by a superior officer.  John was all too happy to disobey. Scott was forever breaking the rules and pushing the boundaries to the max, so he could hardly expect the rest of them to conform to his wishes at all times.  

Especially when he was being this thick headed.

“Go and see Virgil.”

“I’m not done here.”

“It can wait.”

A growl.  “This is important, John.”

John held Virgil’s sketchbook out and dropped it on the desk.  It hit the tabletop in front of the oldest Tracy with a loud slap that felt sharp on the ears.  John pointed at it. “That’s what’s important, Scott.”

His brother stared at it, a mix of surprise and confusion passing over his face.  “Virgil’s sketchbook.” A glance up at John. “Why do you have that?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.  Just open it and take a look.”

He watched as Scott did so, waiting with baited breath for his brother to flick through each page until he arrived at the last one.  Their father’s image so perfectly captured on paper had Scott freezing in his chair.

“He drew Dad…”

A solemn nod from John.  “He did. First time I’ve seen one since the accident.”

Scott’s eyes lifted towards him carefully.  “Why are you showing me this?”

John sighed.  “Because I have two stubborn older brothers who need their heads banged together and Dad isn’t here to do it himself.”  A pause for impact. “Scott, you need to sort this out. I know what Virgil did made you mad but you can’t ghost him like you have been.  Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?”

Scott was staring at their father’s image again.  A finger delicately traced the edge of the pencilled desk.

“He caught me off guard.”

A slight head tilt from John.  “How so?”

Scott closed the sketchbook and set it on the desk in front of him.  John was willing to bet his eldest brother found it too painful to look at their father right now while discussing Virgil’s actions.

“He’s always the sensible one on the ground.”  Those words came as no surprise to John. “I always know he’s right there if I need him.  No disrespect to Gordon or Alan - they’re great at what they do - but I feel like I have to keep an eye on them because they’re the youngest.  Gordon throws a curveball at me almost daily and Alan will be the reason when I eventually go grey.”

John offered him a faint smile.  “They are a little unorthodox sometimes, I’ll give you that.”  His next words came more cautiously. “And Virgil?”

“Well, Virgil is Virgil.  The one who thinks up at least three back up plans before he leaves his ship, the one who balances us out with logical ideas and safety first when I’m too busy being a foolhardy daredevil.”

John gave a quiet hum in surprise.  “Wow, I’m impressed you’re admitting to that.”

A scowl.  “I’m foolhardy, not a fool.”

“Some would argue that they mean the same thing.”

Scott rolled his eyes and stood up from his chair.  He walked up to the glass wall of the round house and gazed down towards the villa.  Back straight. Hands neatly held behind him.

For a moment John saw their dad’s silhouette instead of his brother’s.

He moved to stand beside Scott and looked out across the island.  It was a spectacular view, but John still preferred the ones he got from Space aboard Thunderbird Five.  Hopefully he’d be able to head back up there soon. Not until Scott and Virgil were talking again though.

“So, you’re mad at Virgil because he pulled a you?  Is that it?”

Scott sighed and his shoulders slumped a little.  “It sounds so petty when you put it like that.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I.”

Silence.  John saw his brother’s jaw muscles tensing out the corner of his eye.  He’d hit the nail on the head it seemed, and now Scott appeared reluctant to answer.  John smiled and turned away.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do because you already know yourself, but I would advise you to do it soon.  The longer you wait the more it’s all going to be blown out of proportion.”

He reached the door and it slid open for him, but John paused and glanced back over his shoulder one last time.  Scott hadn’t moved.

“This is a situation only you can solve, Scott.  Virgil needs to know you forgive him.”

He left his brother to ponder over his words.

~*~

Virgil heaved a weighty motor up onto his workbench with a low grunt and then grabbed a rag to wipe at his hands.  Having completed his checks on Thunderbird Two he’d moved on to her modules and the tractor unit responsible for pulling all six out of their storage hangar and under the green ship.

As he had expected there was little that required any attention.  The service bots were always so thorough thanks to Brains’ programing, and rarely missed anything out.  All Virgil had been able to find was a single motor in module two that was just starting to whine. Hardly surprising given how often it was used, but as it was responsible for one of the floor mounted crane arms it was worth taking a look at.

The idea had been that any maintenance he did would serve as a good distraction from all the negative thoughts that had been plaguing him since his falling out with Scott at the hospital.  However, there had been one flaw in Virgil’s plan that he had failed to consider.

He was too good at what he was doing.

He was an accomplished engineer with an intimate knowledge of all the equipment Thunderbird Two carried within her pods, and all the skills necessary to make repairs and adjustments where required.  He didn’t need to concentrate to do a good job, and that allowed his mind to wander immediately back to his older brother as he worked.

Stupid mind.

Stupid Scott.

Virgil was still angry after their last exchange.  Angry and hurt. He’d replayed their argument so many times in his head that he’d lost count, and each time it only made him more miserable.  He’d been called a liar and had his apology thrown back in his face, Scott had yelled at him and made him feel an inch tall, and now he was avoiding him like the plague.

That last part hurt more than anything.

Virgil did acknowledge that he was far from blameless in the situation he now found himself in, what with pushing himself too far and underestimating just how bad that ‘cold’ had been.  It had been reckless and very out of character for him. The sensible one ought to have known better.

Scott was always pushing it.  Risking life and limb to pull off incredible rescues and save lives.  He was a hero - Virgil would never think differently, but the human body could only be pushed so far before it started to fail.

This time it had been Virgil.  He had failed spectacularly. But what would they do if Scott finally cracked one day?  

They’d barely survived the loss of their dad - the incredible Colonel Jeff Tracy had left the world in mourning, a gaping wound in his family that would never heal - and International Rescue had only continued because Scott had stepped in to take on the role of Commander and Chief.

Scott was brilliant, crazy and selfless.  While Virgil took time to consider safety and assess any situation they flew into, Scott was always jumping in head first with no regard for his own safety to help those in need.  He was brave, strong and ready to tackle whatever the world had to throw at him.

It was stupid, but also incredibly admirable.  Virgil had always admired his older brother.

He was proud of Scott and loved what they did.  Loved being a part of International Rescue and being in a position to rescue those in need with the use of the Thunderbirds.  Loved being able to go to sleep at night knowing he’d done his best to help people. Loved knowing that he had Scott’s trust and confidence.

But Virgil loved his brother more.  Alive. Healthy. Safe.

Not constantly exhausted and risking his life on a daily basis.

He picked up a ratchet and socket and started to take the motor apart, hands moving on autopilot while his brain took him even deeper into contemplation.

He didn’t hear the elevator doors roll open across the hangar.

\---

Scott wasn’t all that surprised when the elevator doors opened and he immediately spotted Virgil at his workbench by Thunderbird Two, his back to him.  After checking all of his brother’s other regular haunts the hangar had been the only logical place left to look. Virgil had never been good at sitting still.

Scott stepped out of the elevator and took a breath to ground himself.

The wide expanse of open floor seemed to stretch on for miles, a metaphor of the gaping chasm that had developed between them as of late and kept them apart.  It was time to change that, and now that John had rubbed him down with a half brick up in the round house, Scott was ready to swallow his pride and brave the crossing.

Like his father all those years ago taking his first step down onto the surface of Mars, Scott’s first step across the hangar was full of purpose and hopeful apprehension.

This was the first time he’d ever had a serious fight with Virgil in their entire lives - it had only been minor squabbles over trivial things up until this point - and the eldest Tracy was more than ready to put it behind them.  It was time to build some bridges.

He was about half way across the hangar when he noticed Virgil freeze, the ratchet in his hand coming to an immediate halt with the tensing of his shoulders.  Scott was willing to bet that Virgil knew it was him, but he kept his mouth shut and continued walking towards him, conscious of how every footfall was amplified in the massive hangar.

The clicking of Virgil’s ratchet resumed as he went back to what he was doing without a single glance over his shoulder, and Scott took advantage of the sound to increase his pace just a little and finally close the gap between them.  He stopped about ten feet away, a relatively safe distance, and took a breath.

“Virgil?”

Nothing.  The ratchet kept clicking.  Scott wet his lips nervously.

“How are you?”

Virgil downed the ratchet and Scott felt a glimmer of hope, but that hope of being acknowledged by his brother was dashed a second later when Virgil simply replaced the ratchet with a screwdriver and resumed working.

Okay, so he kind of deserved that.  Virgil had been home for hours now and this was the first time Scott had bothered to pay him a visit, after failing to do so again when he’d been in hospital.  Getting the cold shoulder now was hardly a surprise.

Scott moved closer and positioned himself at the side of the workbench.  Now with a clear view of his brother’s face he saw the deep set frown Virgil was wearing as he worked, a mixture of concentration and irritated tolerance.

Yeah, Scott definitely deserved that.  He wasn’t about to give up though. They needed to talk.  His brain scraped around for a conversation starter. Anything to get Virgil to at least look at him.  He glanced at the motor.

“From the module?” he guessed.  Scott’s mechanical know-how paled in comparison to Virgil’s.  “Alan told me you were resting, so I tried your room first. Are you okay to be working so soon?”

The screwdriver was placed down heavily on the bench and Virgil finally turned to him.  Scott was pinned in place by a pair of dark brown eyes. He watched as Virgil’s lips formed a narrow line, saw the way his frown caught his scar and made it look even deeper.

It had been a while since he’d seen him look this angry.

“Oh, making conversation today, are we?”  Curt. Abrupt. So un-Virgil-like.

Ouch.  Scott frowned a little.  That wasn’t the progress he’d hoped for.  “Pettiness doesn’t suit you, Virgil.”

A derisive snort.  “Well, excuse me.” Virgil turned and walked over to his rollcab, pulling open the top drawer to retrieve more tools.  “What do you want, Scott? I’m busy.”

Scott took a breath.  “I was hoping we could talk, actually.  Catch up.”

Virgil stared at him.  “Talk? After ignoring me?”

“I was on call with Colonel Casey.  There’s been a lot going on.” Scott tried not to wince at how pathetic his own excuse sounded.

A mirthless chuckle from Virgil.  “Good to know where I am in your list of priorities.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped.  “Come on, Virgil, don’t be like that.”

The younger man spun round and glared.  “What did you expect, Scott?” he snapped.  “I haven’t seen you for days. You didn’t even bother coming to visit me again at the hospital, but now you waltz in here like nothing’s wrong!”

Scott felt his own temper creep up to meet Virgil’s, which would probably end badly.  This was not how he’d planned their reunion in his head. He’d failed to anticipate Virgil being quite this angry with him, since his brother was normally the calm rational one of the family.

“I’ve been busy,” he said firmly.

“With what?”

“Looking after International Rescue.”

“We’re all still grounded,” Virgil pointed out bluntly.  “Don’t use rescues as an excuse.”

“I mean the damage control of us being grounded.  That’s why I was on call with Colonel Casey.”

“And you couldn’t take five minutes off to say hello?”  There was the briefest flash of hurt in Virgil’s eyes, but it was gone again before Scott could comment.  “That’s all I wanted, Scott, for you to at least acknowledge I was home.”

“Maybe I should have, but I was a bit preoccupied dealing with everything,” Scott argued.

Great…  They were arguing _again_.

“I had to put in orders to all our different suppliers for parts, liaise with the GDF, handle the family business.  It doesn’t all just stop because the Thunderbirds aren’t flying.”

“And I don’t stop being your brother just because I’m not around,” Virgil fired back.

Scott rolled his eyes and pulled a face.  “Oh, quit being dramatic. I’m here now, aren’t I?  You’re the one who turned this into a fight.”

“Because you’re still too obsessed with work.”

A pause.  “What?”

“It’s all you care about,” Virgil continued.  “You decided that International Rescue was more important than my feelings, and you chose to ignore me.”  The hurt was back, bleeding into Virgil’s voice. “Is it really such a bad thing that we’re on leave right now?”

Scott was torn over how to answer but knew he couldn’t lie to his brother.  He’d already called his brother a liar days ago. If he wasn’t truthful now he’d be nothing more than a hypocrite.

“You know it is, Virgil,” he tried quietly.  “This is who we are.”

Virgil shook his head.  “There’s more to us than just the Thunderbirds, Scott.  We were a family long before we became International Rescue.  You need to stop obsessing over it.”

Scott snorted and pointed towards the huge green Thunderbird standing over them.  “Says the one working on his ship right now when he should be resting!”

Virgil made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and marched back over to the bench, forcing Scott to step out of the way.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for our family and International Rescue as a whole,” Scott attempted to explain himself, moving again when Virgil nearly barged right into him en route once again to his rollcab.  He was pacing back and forth like a wild animal forced into a corner. “We made a vow to keep going after we lost Dad.”

His younger brother stopped abruptly and turned towards him.  “At what cost?” he challenged. “You’re taking things too far.”

“I’m keeping Dad’s dream alive!”

“By killing us?”

“What the--  Virgil, no! I would never--”

“That’s how it feels sometimes,” Virgil snapped, those normally warm chocolate brown eyes dark with anger.  “You’re always pushing us. We’re not in the military, Scott. You can’t expect us to keep risking everything all the time.”

Scott scowled at him.  “I’m just doing what Dad would want.”

“Well I don’t want this!”  Virgil was getting loud.

Scott got louder.  “Then you clearly don’t care about Dad as much as I do!”

Stunned silence.  Pain and fury thick in the air.  Vulnerable brown eyes shimmered before turning hard and a fist clenched.  A sudden explosion of movement.

_Whack!_

Scott stumbled back from the blow, nearly toppling over before crashing into the workbench.  Tools were knocked across its surface and many went over the edge as the eldest Tracy scrabbled for purchase.  The jingling clatter as they hit the floor echoed throughout the vast cavern of Thunderbird Two’s hangar as the great behemoth towered above them.  A silent witness.

It wasn’t until that silence became deafening that Scott realised what had just happened.  Virgil had punched him. Proper punched him right in the face. His cheek throbbed but it felt like nothing compared to the emotional blow he’d just been dealt.

He’d pushed Virgil, his sensitive ‘wears his heart on his sleeve’ brother to violence, and by God had it hurt!  Only Virgil’s love for him had saved Scott’s nose and teeth from being the true target of his brother’s fist.

Scott was in shock, and immediately felt sick with disgust.  What the hell had possessed him to say something like that? To accuse Virgil of not caring about their dad when he knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.  

Of course Virgil cared!  Scott had seen the picture of their father in his brother’s sketchbook.  He’d noticed the faint blotches where the pencil had been smudged with water droplets at the edge, and where Virgil had painstakingly attempted to erase or cover those tiny blemishes.

Tear marks.

He wouldn’t have cried if he didn’t care!

He had a careful feel of his tender cheek and lifted his gaze towards his brother, only just now picking up on the slightly strained panting that was coming from him.  Virgil was flexing his fingers to ease the pain in his knuckles. He swallowed thickly.

“How could you say that?” he snapped, voice hitching.  Scott, already horrified with his slip up, grew increasingly alarmed when he saw Virgil’s eyes turn glassy.

“How could you?” the younger repeated.  This time it was a whisper, voice suddenly oh so small and weak.  “After everything we’ve been through together… Of course I care. Why do you think I did what I did?”

He turned away, probably to compose himself, and Scott was moving.  Pushing himself up from the bench he stepped forward and reached out for his brother.  He felt terrible. Forget the pain in his cheek from Virgil’s punch - this was _far_ worse.

“I’m sorry.”  The word felt cheap and nasty on his tongue.  Virgil deserved far more but Scott didn’t have a clue what to say or do to fix this.  “I don’t know why I said that… Damnit, Virgil, of course I know you care.”

Scott would forever be ashamed of those words he could never take back.  

He placed a tentative hand on his brother’s shoulder but it was quickly shrugged off.   That didn’t deter him though and he simply placed it back. A gentle squeeze and he could feel the shaking in Virgil’s tensed muscles.  This time Virgil let him remain there.

“Talk to me,” he asked gently.  “You said something about why you did it.  Did what, Virgil? Tell me.” Scott was ready to get down on his knees and beg if that was what Virgil needed to forgive him.

He couldn’t believe how cruel and tactless he’d been.  For his emotions to get so out of control was inexcusable.  Words said in anger had left his brother looking so utterly devastated it hurt Scott just to watch.  He had to make things right again, sort out this whole sorry situation and earn back Virgil’s trust.

His younger brother drew in a shaky breath.  “How can I talk to you?” he asked, miserable and quiet.  “You don’t listen, so it wouldn’t even matter.”

Scott frowned and turned Virgil round, gripping both his shoulders to keep him in place.  “It matters,” he insisted. “It’ll always matter, Virgil. You’re my brother and I love you, and I’ll always listen.”  He gave him the gentlest of shakes. “Please? I want to know so I can fix all this.”

The anger that had burned in Virgil’s eyes just moments earlier had died away, leaving him tired and wary.  He stared at Scott’s chest and refused to meet his gaze despite Scott’s attempts to get his full attention.

“I thought I could handle it,” he said at last, repeating those words from days earlier.  “Push myself the way you do. Take up more of the strain so you wouldn’t have to.”

Scott was more than a little confused.  “What? Virgil, I don’t understand.”

“I did it for you!”  Virgil knocked Scott’s hands away and finally looked up.  His eyes were burning again. “Damnit, Scott, this is what I tried to tell you in the hospital!  You wouldn’t listen.”

“Well I’m listening now,” Scott insisted.  “I promise. Tell me, Virgil. Explain it to me.”

“What I did was stupid.”  Virgil’s voice had found some of its strength again.  “I recognise that. I should have come clean about how bad I was feeling, but I didn’t.  I pushed myself because I wanted to do more to help you, to take on more of the burden.”

“Burden?”

“With all this!”  Virgil threw his arm out towards his ‘bird.  “I’ve seen how hard you work, Scott. How much you push yourself every day.  I thought maybe if I tried a little harder you wouldn’t have to risk your own life so much.  Maybe you’d stop with all your adrenaline junky nonsense before it gets you killed!”

The dam had broken and the harsh truths were flowing free from Virgil’s mouth, hitting Scott with waves upon waves of anger and pain that had seemingly come from nowhere.  Just how long had Virgil been letting all this frustration fester?

He wasn’t as vocal as Scott when he got angry - never had been - but it seemed his patience had finally run out.

“You’re an idiot!” Virgil yelled, fury and pain swirling in his eyes like a tropical storm.  “All those stunts you pull would look great on TV, but this is real life, Scott! One wrong move and there’ll be no second chances.  We’ll lose you just like we lost Dad, and I can’t go through that again!”

Scott was stunned into silence, a horrible tingling sensation rushing through his whole body as dread took hold of his insides.  Virgil kept ranting.

“That’s why I lied.  That’s why I hid being ill as long as I could.  I thought if I went on as many missions as possible I’d be able to keep you safe, stop you from doing something stupid.  You said it yourself when we were on that mission with the aurora generator, that you felt you constantly had to do everything on your own.  How do you think that made me feel?”

Scott swallowed against the sick feeling in his stomach.  “I was frustrated. It was a bad time for me. But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to risk your life instead.”

“Well that wasn’t up to you,” Virgil told him firmly.  “I wanted to do more. If that meant risking my own life so you could have a chance to live yours then I was willing to do it.”  His shoulders suddenly dropped and he looked away.

“But then I got sick.  I couldn’t hack it like you and...I completely failed.  I just made everything worse. For you. For everyone. Then you got mad at me and suddenly there was this fissure between us…  I lost your trust.”

Scott felt terrible.  All this time he’d been angry and frustrated at Virgil, misinterpreting his unusual behaviour and actions as insubordination when in reality Virgil had just been trying to do what he thought was right.  In his attempts to emulate Scott he’d made himself ill and now he was carrying the weight of his failure around on his back, allowing it to crush him with every step he took.

How could Scott stay mad at him for that?  

Virgil may have messed up, but he’d done it with the best intentions at heart and in a way that the family were used to dealing with from Scott.  Scott could sprint without falling. Virgil had stumbled and fallen hard.

The older brother stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Virgil’s broad shoulders.  A strong grip full of so many unspoken emotions. Comfort, anger, love, relief and regret.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in his ear, his hug tight and secure. “Virgil, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you felt that way.  I just… I was trying so hard to manage things like Dad did. I didn’t realise how scared you were for me. But I still trust you, Virgil.  I always will. You’re my wingman - I know you’ll always have my back.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath as he pressed his face into his brother’s shoulder, and if Scott’s shirt got slightly damp neither of them commented on it.  They just stood there, two brothers alone in the hangar of Thunderbird Two, both sorry for all the misunderstandings and ready to put it behind them for good.

One of Scott’s hands moved to cup the back of Virgil’s head and ruffled gently through his dark hair.  “Let’s make a promise,” he suggested. “You go back to being the Virgil we all know and love and tell us when you need a break.  In return I’ll do my best to ease off on the daredevil stunts and talk to you all more when I need help. How does that sound?”

The chuckle Virgil let out was muffled and weak, yet it still managed to lift Scott’s spirits and make him smile.  “You really think you can do that?” There was the slightest hint of teasing in his words.

“If you give me a chance,” Scott smiled.  “I’ll do it for you, little brother. I’d do anything for you.”

Virgil slowly pulled away.  His eyes were a bit red and he looked tired beyond belief, but his smile was back and it was warm and genuine.  “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. But know that if you fall back on your word I’ll disable Thunderbird One and even Brains won’t be able to fix it.”

Scott laughed.  “F.A.B.”

\---

High up on the gantry Kayo perched in the shadows, watching over her two eldest brothers with a critical eye.  She’d almost felt that punch herself. Virgil may have been considerably weaker than normal following his illness, but he’d thrown his full weight into that blow and managed to send his brother flying.  Scott was lucky he had any teeth left.

Now though things were getting back on track.  The angry exchange had at long last cleared the air between them, and the emotional hug the two men shared brought a soft smile to the woman’s lips as she remained hidden from view.

This was the progress she’d been hoping for.  Those two idiots needed each other in order to survive.  At odds they tripped and stumbled at every hurdle, but united they were unstoppable.

Kayo lifted her hand and activated her communicator.  “Kayo to John. Tell Grandma to get the cake out. We’re having that welcome home party after all.”

~*~

It had turned into another beautiful evening on Tracy Island, and it felt all the better because the family was back together again.  Sally sat in a lounge chair near the edge of the pool, just taking it all in. She could still smell the barbeque that was now cooling down, all the food Lady Penelope and Parker had brought over long gone, and the ocean breeze was gentle and refreshing.

Alan and Gordon had somehow managed to wrestle John into the pool and were now trying to do the same with poor Brains.  Penelope was in a chair next to Sally, chuckling at the antics of the boys as their poor engineer was finally hauled in.  Parker appeared between them with a couple of drinks and Kayo was even taking some downtime, enjoying a bit of yoga with her mat set out nearby.

It was all wonderful.

But the best part, the thing that had Sally smiling the widest, was the sight a little to her right.

Scott and Virgil, sat on the concrete steps at the side of the pool, laughing and joking as they finished the last slices of Virgil’s welcome home cake.

For a party that had almost not happened it had gone down a treat, and being able to see the smiling faces of her two eldest grandsons filled Sally’s heart with happiness.  It had been a long and stressful couple of weeks, felt by all the family, but those two most of all.

Now Virgil was home, tired but well on the road to recovery, and the rift that had been torn between him and Scott had closed over completely.  There would still be a few wrinkles to iron out, Sally didn’t doubt that, but they could wait until later.

International Rescue would resume in due course once she was certain her family had taken the time they needed to reconnect with one another.  They would face hardships again in the future as all families did, but for now, in this moment, everything was almost perfect.

The Tracy matriarch placed her glass down carefully on a nearby table and opened the latest sketchbook belonging to her artistic grandson, which had come into her hands from Scott earlier that evening.  She flicked through the pages until she reached the one individual who was missing.

Jeff.  Her beloved son.  So perfectly captured in pencil by the talented artist of the family.  An image they had all seen now and taken a moment to appreciate.

Sally could only hope that, wherever Jeff was, he was looking down on his family and knowing how much he was missed.  He always would be.

But this was not a time to be sad.  His boys were strong, they each possessed his core values, and they were continuing his dream to the best of their abilities.  Sally knew Jeff would be nothing but proud of each and every one of them.

Another glance to the side at the pair on the steps.  Scott gave Virgil a gentle nudge with his shoulder which the younger quickly returned, words she couldn’t quite hear being exchanged between them.  Smiling and fully at ease.

Yes.  That was her Scott and Virgil.  Brothers, best friends, confidants and wingman for one another.

Together they could do anything.

Together they would survive.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. For a while I didn't think I'd get to this point, but here I am lol. My first ever Thunderbirds Are Go! fanfiction completed.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me during this process. I hope you enjoyed the ride and that the ending was okay. I tried not to make it feel rushed but I'm always going to look at my writing and think how I could improve it. I could have done more with it but I've now been on this fic for too long, so it's time to move on.
> 
> This was a fun experience and I enjoyed exploring the characters - just hope I didn't break any of them too much lol. Hoping to write more (shorter) TAG fics in the future.


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